Kill The Lights
by oh-you-pretty-things
Summary: Trying to forget someone you love is like trying to remember someone you never met. Sequel to Great Love. E x S
1. Plastic Stars

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies._**

_AN: It was a tough call, admittedly. So tough that I wrote two very different versions of the first chapter. I liked the 1st person chapter much, much more. This is a very personal tale and it deserves all the intimacy I can muster. So, here we are again. This is set immediately following 'Great Love'. My original plans for this story have altered considerably. I was planning on leaning on the celebrity status of Bad Luck for a lot of the plot, but as it turns out (as it always turns out), the characters have other plans. Particularly one OC who really, really wants to make herself known. She's practically demanding to be written. Anyway, she'll have to wait. It's not her turn yet. Yuki has things to say, Shuichi has revelations to have, Tohma has sinister plans to set in motion, etc, etc. Anyway, you will notice that I will put lyrics and song titles at the beginning of every chapter. It's because I have this nasty habit of making soundtracks for my fanfics. I think they're fabulous, you may think otherwise. ;) Plastic Stars by Freezepop pretty much sums up all the warm, fuzzy feelings that Eiri has at the beginning of this chapter (and the massive use of synth helps out, too!). This is a really long author's note...sorry. Enjoy! Reviews are welcomed and will be treasured forever. _

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_You say - there's no place you'd rather be when you're lying next to me  
I say - there's no one you'd rather see when you're lying next to me  
You say - that you never want to go when you're lying next to me  
I say - that I want to take it slow when you're lying next to me_

_Plastic stars in our private galaxy  
Synthpop stars come and play a show for me_

_You say - you are totally complete when you're lying next to me  
I say - even your tears will taste sweet when you're lying next to me  
You say - a better place cannot be found when you're lying next to me  
I say - let's make my bed a playground when you're lying next to me_

_~Plastic Stars, Freezepop_

Eiri

Beams of sunlight crept through the paper blinds, coming to rest hotly against my back. It was the sort of minor annoyance that I would have simply rolled away from on any normal day, but not today. Today my memory kicked in quickly. Today, there was something nagging at the back of my mind. Something that told me today was not a normal day. Something that insisted I return to the land of the living and open my eyes now. A familiar face filled my mind, smiling, laughing, being obnoxious. Shuichi. My eyes snapped open and I blinked them in a furious attempt to clear my vision of early morning floaters and general bleariness. I turned my head to my left, my blurry eyes searching, searching for...a tuft of black hair poking out of the top of the futon, an arm draped carelessly above the pillow, the fingernails on said hand painted blue for some inane, "artistic" reason. I didn't really care about these details so much as the fact that he was still here. That the last week hadn't been a total dream. That he was alive. That he still loved me.

A very selfish part of me wanted to wake the little brat up so that he could fill my day with his bright enthusiasm, while another part wanted to watch him sleep a little longer. I tugged the futon down gently so that I could see his face. There was something very beautiful about his face – both effeminate and masculine, both restful and vibrant. I wondered if he knew… I certainly hadn't told him so. He mumbled my name almost instinctively and rolled into me, his leg wrapping around mine, his arms clutching my shoulders in an act of unconscious possessiveness. For once, I didn't mind. I didn't feel suffocated or trapped. In fact, I could have stayed like this for the rest of the day.

As though reading my mind, the phone rang in a genius foil of all my quiet plans. Shuichi buried his face into my shoulder, clutching on harder as I struggled in the opposite direction to reach the phone on the nightstand.

"Hello?" I said quietly, glancing at Shuichi. He was still fast asleep. Possibly drooling. Idiot.

"Eiri-kun," Tohma's smooth voice rolled through the receiver, "I was wondering if you could be so kind as to bring Shindou-san into the studio."

"He's sleeping," I replied snappishly. Why did Tohma always insist on disrupting Shuichi and me?

"Eiri-kun," Tohma replied lightly, a hint of warning in his voice.

I growled into the phone and nudged Shuichi. "Hey."

Shuichi smiled in his sleep and I pushed him a little harder. "Wake up."

"Nnngh?"

"Tohma's on the phone."

It was amazing how those four little words snapped him to life to suddenly. He sat up quickly, snatching the telephone from my hand and pressing it to his ear.

"Seguchi-san?"

I watched him, his wide eyes staring forward with all the rapt concentration of a kindergartener. There was a seriousness to his expression now that overshadowed his stupidity. It was like Shuichi had finally grown up. I wasn't sure that I liked it. Actually, I really didn't like to think about it at all. The truth was that I couldn't bear to think that I held all the responsibility for it. Well, whatever. For now, just being with him like this was enough.

The sunbeams leaking through the window danced across his pale skin, highlighting the lines of his chest and giving him a sort of strange, ethereal glow. It was as though the superstar had gone supernova. He nodded and made little, affirmative Shuichi noises. I was too busy watching his lips, soft lips that I wanted to touch with my own, to really listen to what was being said. After a moment or two, he snapped the cell phone shut and hunched his shoulders, destroying the otherworldly imagery. I sighed. Just when I was really coming up with a good description, something I could use in a book. Right. Using Shuichi in a book would go over really well. He pursed his lips and hooded his eyes, his heavy eyelashes brushing the pale skin beneath. Okay, I could definitely use him in a story. I probably already had.

Shuichi turned to me and my eyes dropped to his lips. They were moving again. "Yuki, are you listening?"

"What?"

"I said Seguchi-san wants you to come with me."

I frowned. "Why?"

Shuichi shrugged and started to climb out of bed. My heart sank as he finally removed himself from the sunlight, disappearing into the shadows of the room. Back to the cold realm of reality. He reappeared a minute later dressed in a pair of baggy cargo pants holding a scrunched up black t-shirt in his hand.

"Aren't you getting up, Yuki?" he asked quietly.

I shrugged and fished a cigarette out of the box beside the bed. I pushed it into my mouth and moved to light it.

"You shouldn't smoke in bed," Shuichi mumbled, pulling his shirt over his head.

"You shouldn't wear nail polish. Aren't you gay enough?"

He smirked at me, drawing his knees up onto the edge of the bed and crawling towards me, until his face was mere inches from mine. Then he pulled the unlit cigarette from my mouth very slowly and leaned in to kiss me. His eyes rested on my lips for just a bare moment and I could feel myself growing hard. Just like that. Then the little shit stuck out his tongue and jumped off the bed before I even had a chance to make a grab for him.

"Come on, Yuki. Seguchi-san sounded mad."

"He did?" I groaned as I stretched my legs over the bed. Did Tohma ever sound mad? I thought he generally sounded less and less angry the angrier he was. Well, perhaps Shuichi was far more perceptive than I had anticipated. I pulled on my jeans just as Shuichi returned to the room holding a clean shirt out to me. I took it from him and stared at it.

"Who ironed this?" I muttered as I pulled it on.

Shuichi shrugged and gave me a little smile before disappearing from the room again. I made my way out into the hallway which was glowing warm with golden sunlight, lighting the path that Shuichi had galloped down. He was pulling on his shoes by the door. It was astonishing that he was an international superstar and he still wore ratty running shoes. I suppose it was part of his style. Urban chic, or whatever.

We left the apartment complete with the necessary sunglasses, not that they helped us much beyond keeping us from going blind when the photographers got too close. I glanced outside to see the mass media madness that NG's hired thugs were barely keeping at bay. They caught a glimpse of Shuichi and pushed at the barricade even more. Shuichi had been keeping himself, well, basically indoors since we walked off that plane. Sure, I'd read the papers which had either focused on the fact that Shuichi had appeared in public after it had been announced that he was missing officially or the fact that we had walked through the cavalcade of reporters hand in hand. Are the lovers back together? Good question, I suppose. Every time I brought up, well, anything regarding us or _that_ nasty, little predicament, Shuichi was quick to silence me in one way or another. Truthfully, I wasn't going to push it. I was happy with pretending that it had never happened.

"Shindou-sama, Yuki-san."

Tohma's hired thug was paid to wait for us to try to make a grand escape. They had it all planned out, the NG team. Surprisingly, K wasn't involved in some way. Then again, maybe he was. I glanced over my shoulder suspiciously. He's probably in the ceiling tiles… The thug, or bodyguard, or whatever he was called, took us down to my car. He explained all the details to us: how we were to wait until we had the signal, how we were to follow the grey Audi, how we were not to deviate from the planned route, etcetera, etcetera.

"What a pain in the ass," I grumbled as I climbed into the car.

"I'm sorry, Yuki," Shuichi said quietly.

I shot him a nasty look. "You're sorry that you've surpassed Sakuma?"

His cheeks reddened ever so slightly and he looked adequately miserable. "Well, no. But-"

I ruffled his hair lightly and smiled. Cautious shock washed over his features and I wasn't sure why. "Don't apologize if you don't mean it. It's still a pain in the ass."

We drove in relative silence. I only say that because we weren't _talking_. Shuichi had turned on the radio and was humming along to songs as he stared out the window. A Bad Luck song came on and he started singing along. Occasionally, he would pause and mutter something about how that particular line should have been rewritten or sung differently. I pointed out that the whole song should have been rewritten by someone with actual talent. He pretended to ignore me.

As we reached the NG building, the grey Audi slowed considerably. I took me a minute to see why. There were thousands of people surrounding the building. I could see now where they had cleared enough of a pathway for us to get from the car into the building.

"Shu, when I stop the car, just stay there until I get over to your door, okay?"

Shuichi looked at me disbelievingly and smiled as though I had said the sweetest thing imaginable. All I'd suggested is that he stay in the car to avoid the bloody mob so that I could get over there and we could actually make it inside the building with all our limbs attached. Still staring at me as I pulled the car over, he reached his hand out to brush my cheek.

"I'm used to it, Yuki. I'm sorry if it's a hassle for you," he said softly.

He was telling me that he didn't need me. Okay, maybe he wasn't intending to tell me that, but he had done just that. I pulled away from his hand and pulled out a cigarette.

"Fine. Do what you want."

"Yuki," Shuichi said with an exasperated tone, "Don't be mad."

"I'm not."

Shuichi gave me another disbelieving look. "Fine," he conceded without much of a fight. My God, he'd changed. He turned away from me, but stayed seated as I lit my cigarette.

"Are you going to get out?" he asked after a moment.

I glanced at him and shook my head before climbing out of the car. The crowd went a little mad. It was hard to tell whether it was for me, or just because the door had opened , or even because my being in the car meant that Shuichi was in the car. God, I hoped this wasn't going to become a regular occurrence. I walked over to the passenger side and opened the door.

"What am I? Your chauffeur?" I muttered at Shuichi.

He smiled and pulled his sunglasses over his eyes. "You insisted."

Little shit. I turned my back on him and stalked off to the doorway without so much as waiting for him. It wasn't until I was inside the doorway that I realized he wasn't beside me. He was a good ten feet away, signing autograph books. I leaned against the window and listened to the madding crowd. They screamed his name, they screamed my name, they screamed for Bad Luck. It was all pretty ridiculous.

I turned away from the crazy scene; there were hired thugs on the job and Shuichi would be fine. He didn't need me, after all. Well. It seemed I couldn't avoid my little monster. There he was on the jumbotron, just inside the doors of NG. It was a music video from the release of their last album, before the world tour and right after…well, after _that_.

A sultry, 20-foot high Shuichi stared back at me from the screen, his perfect mouth moving to form words I couldn't hear. What had I missed in that year? What had I lost? A beautiful woman with too much makeup on her face sauntered onto the screen, the focus of the scene going in and out with the beat of the music. She wrapped her arms around Shuichi, the camera closing in on her hand sliding across his chest. I felt a pang of…something. Jealousy? Pain? I don't know. It was all acting, of course, but the problem lay in the uncertainty of it all. Before, he would come home from a video filming and there was no doubt that he was mine. But, then? Then I was out of the picture. Then he could have easily taken that actress…

The door opened before I had a chance to complete that thought. Good thing, too. Shuichi pulled his sunglasses up into his hair.

"About time," I growled as I took one final drag of my spent cigarette.

Shuichi just ignored my annoyance and entangled his fingers with mine, pulling me along. Like he had in New York. There was something very attractive about his assertiveness that made me both want him more _and_ feel obsolete. There wasn't anything different about him except that he'd become used to sticking up for himself rather than relying on me for it. I should have been glad, right?

I tossed myself into a chair in Tohma's office and stared at my brother-in-law's back. He was tapping a finger against the glass, watching the crowds of people below. He was intentionally keeping us waiting, intentionally making Shuichi sweat. I rolled my eyes at Tohma's back and stuck a cigarette in my mouth. Shuichi fidgeted uncomfortably beside me, as though awaiting instant death. As if. Tohma wouldn't do anything too drastic to him, after all. Well…then again…this was Seguchi we were talking about… I took a short, nervous drag on my cigarette.

"I love it when it rains in Tokyo," Tohma said suddenly, his soft voice shocking me into irritation.

"Cut the bullshit, Seguchi. I have things to do," I hissed.

"Yuki!" Shuichi cried, his hand shooting out to grip mine.

Tohma turned slowly and smiled at me. Oh dear. He really was pissed.

"If you insist," he replied lightly, sitting down at his desk. The smile on his face was false. He sat there for a few minutes, his fingers toying with his notepad. He knew how to play Shuichi to perfection, just like he knew how to play the synth. He was almost a master. Shuichi squirmed miserably in his seat before jumping to his feet and bending into a low bow.

"I'm sorry! My absence was inexcusable!"

I watched a cruel smile stretch across Tohma's face as he left Shuichi unsatisfied in his bow for just a few seconds too long. He really was a shark.

"Please sit down, Shindou-san," he said at length.

He then took great pleasure in telling Shuichi about all the trouble he'd caused. Tohma knew better than to bring up the marketing side of things, so he brought up Shuichi's weak point instead – his friends. His fans. His family. All the people he had made worry about him. I knew that it would have been appropriate for me to be angry with Shuichi for disappearing like that, but I really wasn't. In fact, I was more annoyed with Seguchi for interrupting our reunion than I was with Shuichi. I wondered if that rightful anger would ever actually catch up to me.

Tohma continued to torment Shuichi, which really had little to do with me. I wasn't even sure why I was here. Tohma asked Shuichi what he felt would be an appropriate punishment and Shu automatically went for the predictable – an increase in workload. But, any idiot with half a brain who knew Shu would know that _increasing_ his workload would hardly be punishment. It occurred to me then what Tohma was planning.

"Well, I don't think that will do, Shindou-san," Tohma said, straightening out some papers on his desk disinterestedly, "No, starting today, you are suspended from working in the recording studio."

"What?" Shuichi asked in a state of shock.

It was a bit cruel. Ingenious, but cruel. I smirked to myself. Good. If he was suspended from recording, that would mean that he would be home more. I caught Tohma's eyes on me and frowned.

"You are suspended from recording," he repeated, his eyes never leaving mine, "But you will spend the next week correcting the public relations mess you left in your wake. You will do interviews in all forums: print, television and radio. You will fix what you have broken and you will do it alone."

Shuichi looked about as pleased as if someone had just executed his family right before his eyes. It was a good expression, downcast eyes, a plump, pouting lip, misery personified. Another usable description for a book.

"What about Hiro and Fujisaki?" Shuichi asked meekly.

"They will take a well-deserved vacation."

"That seems fair." For some reason, the sound of defeat in his voice struck a chord within me. Why should he suffer when it was clear that he _left_ because he was suffering?

"What the fuck is this all about, Tohma?"

I could see Shuichi's head snap upwards in my peripheral. He was as surprised by my outburst as I was. Tohma, on the other hand, shrugged lightly. I could see from his expression that he was pleased to have upset me. As though this was my punishment for going to New York. As though he wouldn't have been able to find me. Whatever.

"You don't even know why he ran off!" I hissed hotly.

Tohma raised his eyebrows at me. "Do you?"

"I-"

I, of course, had no idea why he had run off. Or when. Or how. Or who with. Or where to, for that matter.

"That does bring up a very interesting point, Shindou-san. I assume you were in New York," Tohma said lightly again.

Shuichi drew in a quick gasp of air, staring at his knees. His small hands gripped the fabric of his pants, forming fists so tight that his knuckles were bloodless. He looked up at me, almost fearfully, before answering.

"No," he admitted, his eyes holding mine with a look of…what? Shame? Embarrassment? Guilt?

"Where did you go?" a soft voice asked. I was shocked to realize that it was my own.

Shuichi hesitated, breaking eye contact with me finally to glance at Tohma with a contemplative face.

"Shindou-san," Tohma said in light, persuasive warning.

"I was in Los Angeles."

"Los…?" Tohma started. His expression darkened suddenly. "He lied to me. Did you ask him to lie to me?"

"I…uh…sort of," Shuichi mumbled weakly.

I felt a storm of emotions bombarding me all at once. Tohma would only be so angry if someone close to him was lying. Someone close to Tohma, who lived in LA, only brought one person to mind. Sakuma Ryuichi. Shuichi had been with _him_. But, why? And in what capacity? Did I even want to know, really?

Tohma rose from his seat and slammed his hands on the desk, unable to control his anger anymore. A rare sight, indeed.

"Your suspension has been extended for another week. That's two weeks of interviews," he said, his voice shaking and on the mere edge of control, "Now I suggest you get out of my office, Shindou-san, before I lose my temper with you."

Shuichi was smart enough to get out of his seat as quickly as his agile body would allow, which admittedly was pretty quickly. He bowed low and made a quick escape towards the door. The emotions that were stirring around somewhere deep within me forced me to draw another drag from my cigarette. I had to stay here, if only to keep Tohma distracted enough to prevent him from doing anything…rash.

"Oh, and Shuichi-san," Tohma said very softly, his eyes piercing mine to make his point, "This time no questions are off limits."

"I haven't seen you this angry in a long time," I said after Shuichi had escaped out the door.

Having been forbidden from recording, he was likely off to find Hiroshi and Suguru. That wouldn't be a reunion I would want to see. In all likelihood, I'd be nursing Shuichi's black eye tonight if what I know of Nakano's temper still rang true.

"It's been a long time since Ryuichi has lied to me so blatantly," Tohma replied, "But what about you, Eiri? You're not angry?"

Angry? No. But there was something else stirring up inside me. Something ugly and barely suppressible, even though I wasn't sure what it was just yet. That was probably for the best. I took a long drag of my cigarette and an uncomfortable image of Shuichi taking comfort in the arms of Sakuma Ryuichi filled my mind. The ugly thing clawed at my insides. I closed my eyes and took another drawn out drag, remembering Shuichi's painted nails illuminated in the morning sunbeams. I smiled at the memory, which seemed to subdue the ugly creature for now. My eyes snapped open and I peered at Tohma. There was only one thing to admit at a time like this and he could interpret it however he wanted.

"I don't know how to feel."


	2. Something Changed

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies. Pulp lyrics are clearly labeled as such and obviously belong to Pulp and their recording studio, etc etc.  
_**

_AN: Okay. I have a lot of apologizing to do: sorry this took so long to write, sorry that the quality is less than stellar, sorry that not all that much happens in this chapter, and sorry that I'm writing such a long, boring AN. I am currently taking part in NaNoWriMo and so I've been trying to write this AND my NaNo story. Also, I was sick, and blah, blah, blah. Anyway, it'll probably be a bit until I get the next chapter out as I should seriously put some effort towards my NaNo thingie. Uhg. Setting up characters and situations is tiring. -sigh- Thank you for your patience and I promise the next chapter will actually be worth the wait.  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_I wrote the song two hours before we met.  
I didn't know your name or what you looked like yet.  
Oh I could have stayed at home and gone to bed.  
I could have gone to see a film instead.  
You might have changed your mind and seen your friends.  
Life could have been very different but then,  
Something changed.  
Do you believe that there's someone up above?  
Does he have a timetable directing acts of love?  
Why did I write this song on that one day?  
Why did you touch my hand and softly say:  
Stop asking questions that don't matter anyway.  
Just give us a kiss to celebrate here today.  
Something changed.  
When we woke up that morning we had no way of knowing,  
that in a matter of hours we'd change the way we were going.  
Where would I be now if we'd never met?  
Would I be singing this song to someone else instead?  
I dunno but like you said  
something changed. _

_~Something Changed, Pulp_

Shuichi

Yuki's voice reverberated against my fingertips through the smooth, wood doors of Seguchi's office.

"I don't know how to feel."

I knew what he meant. It was almost funny how there once existed a time when I would have wondered what he'd meant. But that time had passed. He meant, of course, several things. He meant that he didn't know how to feel about my staying with Sakuma-san. He meant that he didn't know how to feel about my disappearance. He meant that he didn't know how to feel about my reappearance. Or the fact that we were together again. Or the fact that he loved me. Or, even, the new and improved _me._

I leaned back on my fingertips, silently pushing off the door. There was a lot going on right now. Too much for me to really grasp. Yuki, after all these years and after _that_ awful day, had finally admitted that he loved me. He had actually _verbally_ confessed. It doesn't matter that he thought he had been confessing to a ghost. It still happened. And, now, well, there's _this _mess to contend with. I guess I hadn't stopped to think about how everyone would be affected by my disappearance. All I had known was that I couldn't stand the lie anymore. I felt empty and fake. A sham rock god masquerading as my biggest dream. What was the point of that dream if Yuki wasn't with me? It hurt too much to comprehend and so, I ran.

I knew that if I had stayed, I would have done something far worse than simply running away. Yuki once told me that I wasn't delicate enough to commit suicide. He might have been right, but without him there was no sense or reason to anything I did. Sure, we had far surpassed Nittle Grasper in success. I was on par with Sakuma Ryuichi. I was living my dream. But what was the point? Who was I living it for? And I had known that if I had contacted Hiro, someone from NG would have come to collect me instantly. I hadn't been ready for that. I hadn't been ready until I had heard the sadness in Hiro's voice, thousands of kilometres away, buzzing through the television screen.

And now, Hiro had every right to be angry. As did Fujisaki. And Seguchi-san. And even Eiri. I knew that Seguchi-san could have done a lot worse to me. Maybe he hadn't because of Eiri. After all, I had continually been spared his wrath simply by my association to Yuki. But, then again, there had been times when I was not spared, and in fact my involvement with Yuki had incited his rage instead. In any sense, how bad could a few interviews really be? The first couple after my infamous break up from Yuki Eiri had been the most painful experiences of my life. Admitting to the world that I was no longer with the man I loved? I shuddered at the memory.

I followed the hallway on instinct and memory. The elevator ride down seemed to go on forever. I stepped out and made my way in slow, trudging steps, to Studio 3. It was our studio now, exclusively. I wondered what Hiro and Fujisaki had been up to while I hid in the sunlight of LA. Had they just been jamming together for a month? Or, had they been working on other projects? Working with other bands and vocalists? More importantly, how angry would Hiro be when I walked in the room? When I told him that I was suspended?

I approached the door to Studio 3 with a heavy sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. There was no sound escaping through the walls, no sign of them working on anything at all. I took in a deep breath as I rested my hand on the cool, stainless steel door handle. Turning this door handle would be a dangerous experience. A scary experience. I turned it, the dread rising up like bile into my throat and resting there as I pushed the door open. For a minute, I just stood perfectly still and drank in the familiarity of the scene before me. Fujisaki was reading a magazine with my photo on the cover, something about my disappearance, and Hiro was chewing on a strawberry pocky stick with his feet up on the table. Hiro's eyes met mine and he stopped chewing, the pocky stick hanging loosely from his lips. Fujisaki glanced up from his magazine disinterestedly and then looked back to the article before doing a quick double take.

"Shindou-san?" Fujisaki asked.

Hiro swung his legs down to the ground, the pocky falling from his lips, and stood up all in one swift motion. He approached me quickly, causing me to take a step backwards.

"Shuichi," he said slowly, unsteadily. Almost as though I would disappear right before his eyes.

"Hiro, I-"

Before I had a chance to finish, Hiro had wrapped me in a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of me.

"Don't you ever fucking do that again, you little shit."

"Sorry, Hiro," I whispered, releasing a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Hiro released me. We stood awkwardly for a minute, neither of us sure what to say next. Fujisaki finally broke the awkward silence by noisily dropping his magazine onto the table.

"Well, now we can get some work done."

"Er, yeah. About that-"

Before I had a chance to finish, I heard the most peculiar sound. It was a female voice, rich and powerful, light and energetic, but the strange part was that she was singing my song. An old song, the Rage Beat to be exact. I backed into the hallway, just listening for a moment. Whoever was on the synth was amazing, almost as good as Fujisaki. Who were these people? The girl's voice was intense, echoing in a way my voice would never be able to. It was triggering something inside me, the same sort of something that I felt when I sang alongside Sakuma-san. Before I even knew it, I was stampeding away from Studio 3 and down the hallway to Studio 2. I pushed open the door and halted just inside the studio.

Behind the plexiglass inside Studio 2 were two girls – one belting out my lyrics and the other jamming on the synth. The vocalist had her eyes squeezed shut and was letting her voice carry as far as it could. The girl on the synth's eyes widened when I'd stormed into the room and suddenly her fingers were dead. The singer opened her eyes and glanced back at her keyboardist in confusion. Then her head snapped around, following her bandmate's line of sight, and she saw me. The mic fell from her hand and she just stared at me. Recognition slapped me right in the face. I knew her. I knew her face. I recognized those bright green eyes and pretty mixed features. I knew that her mother was Australian and her father was a Japanese diplomat. I knew what her laugh sounded like. I knew her name was...

"Ah, this is Fevertouch! They're the newest band on the NG roster," Hiro started to explain, "The vocalist is As-"

"Asuki," I whispered, still staring at her, "Oshiro Asuki."

Her eyes widened in surprise, as though she had expected me to have forgotten her entirely. How could I? She had brought me out of my madness the night following our first world tour concert. The night when I wasn't sure I could follow through with the plan. When I wasn't even sure who I was anymore.

"I didn't know you were in a band," I mumbled almost inaudibly, my eyes still glued on hers.

As though she had read my lips through the glass, she lowered her eyes and gave me a half-shrug.

"You two know each other?" Fujisaki asked, moving towards the other girl, who had come through the recording room door. Their fingers entwined and I suddenly knew how that girl had become so good at the synth.

I glanced at Fujisaki and then at Hiro, unsure of what to say. I could feel Hiro's eyes upon me and felt my cheeks grow warm as I looked at the floor. Sure, I knew her, but the circumstances of our meeting was not something I could divulge to a group of people. Hiro turned his attention to Asuki.

"You came to one of our concerts," he said simply.

Asuki-chan smiled and bit her bottom lip. "Of course I did. I came to a few, actually."

Fujisaki's brow furrowed and it looked as though he was about to ask something, but it seemed the other girl crushed his hand into submission and he snapped his mouth shut.

"I'm Kimura Megumi," the girl clinging to Fujisaki said to me, bowing low. "I'm a huge fan of yours, Shindou-sama. I'm glad you've had a safe return."

I laughed nervously and scratched the back of my head. "Thank you."

"So," Hiro said, resting his arm heavily over my shoulder, "Now that you're back to your old antics of abruptly leaving the room and storming in on poor, defenseless people, maybe we should leave these ladies alone and go do some of our own work."

I flinched. Asuki seemed to have caught on to my hesitation. "We don't mind if you want to stay," she said lightly, "We were just surprised."

"No, it's not that," I mumbled, "It's just…"

I looked from Hiro to Fujisaki and then to the floor. "Seguchi-san has suspended me from recording."

I felt Hiro's weight come free of my shoulders and nearly toppled over from the sudden shift. "What?"

"What does he think he's doing? We need to record!" Fujisaki shouted, stomping off towards the door.

I made a grab for his arm. "No, it's fair. I have to make this right."

"How the hell are you going to do that without recording?" Hiro snapped.

"Interviews."

It was Hiro's turn to wince. "Well. That's not going to be pretty."

I shook my head in defeat. "No. But, just because I can't be here doesn't mean you can't work!"

I rummaged through my bag for the songs I had written at Sakuma-san's and passed the slightly crumpled pages to Hiro. Fujisaki snatched them from his hands before he even had a chance to read them. I watched his quick eyes dance over the messily scrawled notes and lyrics.

"This is really good, Shindou-san," he said quietly, his eyes still on the page, "We can work on this."

He pressed the music into Hiro's hands and headed for the door of the studio. Hiro was glancing over the music with Megumi over his shoulder.

"Ooh. This looks good!" she said, brightly.

"Hey," I heard from the doorway. I turned rapidly towards the voice; the voice I loved so very, very much.

"Yuki!"

Part of me wanted to run to him and jump all over him, while another part reminded me that I didn't do that anymore. If I did, if I chose to put my heart at risk like that again, it would surely be damaged.

"Come on, Shu. We better get out of here before Tohma calls off the hired thugs and lets the media devour you. You managed to royally piss off the label boss. Congratulations."

Yuki was as detached and cold as ever except for one little thing. He had called me 'Shu'. Not only had he called me 'Shu', but he had called me 'Shu' in public. I fought the urge to maul him in the hallway of NG studios and turned back to Hiro.

"I'm sorry, Hiro."

I meant it, too. In many ways.

"Don't worry about it. Suguru and I have it covered, but when you get back you better be prepared to sing your ass off."

I smiled.

"Which brings to mind, before you disappear again," he glanced pointedly at Yuki, "how long are you suspended?"

"Oh. Two weeks."

"That's it?" Fujisaki said, "Well, that'll be the most productive two weeks any of us have had in a while."

It's good to see that nothing had really changed while I was away. I had been expecting a maelstrom but had received only a calm breeze. Things were almost too good and I dreaded the day the tide would turn.

I started to walk towards the door, only just remembering my manners about halfway there. I turned and bowed quickly.

"It's been a pleasure Asuki-chan, Megumi-san."

When I looked back at Yuki, I realized that he was staring past me. Frowning, I twisted to see who he was looking at. A jolt of pure energy shot through me when I caught the expression on Asuki's face. It was as though she were issuing a challenge to Yuki. An unease washed over me because I had a sneaking suspicion what was at the heart of the challenge. Or, rather – who.

"Eiri," I said softly.

He looked down at me as though he was surprised to see me there and then grabbed my wrist abruptly.

"Let's go." He shot one more nasty look towards Asuki-chan before pulling me down the hallway.

"Yuki." He ignored me completely.

"Yuki," I repeated calmly. Again, he didn't hear me.

"Yuki Eiri."

He stopped finally and glanced back at me, still holding onto my wrist. He was irritated, that much was clear. It was amazing how well I could read him now. I remember the times when I never knew whether he wanted me around or not. Now I knew. I always knew, whether he wanted me to or not. Which was exactly why what I was going to say would hurt me even more than it would hurt him – because I'd be able to _see_ his pain.

"I can walk on my own, you know," I said, staring pointedly at his hand closed around my wrist.

Yuki dropped my wrist suddenly, as though he'd forgotten that he'd been holding it at all. I looked past him at the mob of people beyond the doorway. I could hear my own voice singing through giant speakers up at the reception area. The surrealism of the whole situation was a bit much and all I really wanted to do was go home. So, that's what I would do. Go home.

"Why are we just standing here?" Yuki asked, shaking me from my reverie.

"I want to go home, Yuki," I said, raising my eyes to meet his. I hoped he could see the determination in them, but he was oblivious.

"So?" he said with a shrug, "Let's go home, then."

Yuki started to turn to walk out towards the huge glass doors. My heart began to pound in an almost painful way. This was it, of course. This was the moment that would end the honeymoon. This was my chance to change everything and there was no turning back. So, I said it.

"No, Yuki. I want to go to _my_ home."

Yuki narrowed his eyes at me. "_Your_ home?"

I nodded. "My apartment."

For a minute, Yuki just stared at me blankly and then I saw it - the pain seeping through, the realization that I wasn't actually going to ignore all that had happened in the past. I needed to speak, even if what I said was only going to make it worse.

"I think it'll be good for us," I said as I started to walk towards the door, "You know, to have our own spaces. You can get your work done and I can get mine done. No interruptions."

"Shut up."

His words cut me like a knife. I turned around, mentally forcing the threatening tears back into their ducts. I pulled in a deep breath before speaking again, "What we were doing before clearly didn't work. We need-"

"Shut. Up."

I watched the muscles along his jaw ripple as he clenched his teeth together and glared at me. He could try to look angry all he wanted, but I knew what was at the core of that anger. I shrugged at him.

"I can get my own ride home," I suggested lightly.

His angry demeanor cracked then, his eyes softening to the mere edge of tears. He closed them and when he opened them, he was Yuki Eiri again.

"No. I'll drive you."

His voice was soft, like crushed velvet, and I fought the urge to take it all back. It was too late for that and there were certain things that I needed to prove to myself. Certain things that Eiri needed to know that I was capable of doing all alone. We needed to do this properly to avoid _that_ again. He slid his sunglasses on, but even shaded by coloured glass I could see the tears glsitening delicately in the corners of his eyes. I took in a deep breath and slid my glasses on as though they could hide all the damage from the world outside. What's done is done. Something had changed and all we could do was evolve along with it.


	3. Bitches in Tokyo

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies. Pulp lyrics are clearly labeled as such and obviously belong to Pulp and their recording studio, etc etc.  
_**

_AN: I'm sorry this took so long to update! Life sort of got in the way a bit. Also, I had originally written a chapter as Asuki, but I felt that it was a bit self-serving and superfluous, so I rewrote the third chapter from Yuki's perspective. I'm trying really hard to keep my personal insecurities to myself, so without further adieu, chapter three: Bitches in Tokyo.  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_You can write my place out  
Of the life you make  
And all the things that mattered  
When you knew my face  
Cross off all the ways I failed you  
Because I failed you  
But I'm still in your blood  
You're still in my blood_

_The time when all our mistakes made sense  
You needed it  
The time when all the lying  
Sympathized with sin  
All this sabotage and blame  
Well I can take it  
'Cause I just want you back_

_I just want you back_

_Temporary battles  
Can take up half your life  
How you dig your bed  
Will it help you sleep at night?  
Forgiveness like a blanket  
That you want to forget  
But you still crumble at my name  
You still crumble at my name_

_~Bitches in Tokyo, Stars_

Eiri

"Eiri, I hope you realize that," Seguchi wavered slightly, searching for the right words.

I knew what he was looking for: that things were different now, that our lives would never be the same, that Shuichi had changed. As if I didn't understand the impact that our year apart had on everyone involved. Did I expect life to be the same as before? No, of course not. But I certainly had been enjoying the illusion.

"What, Tohma?" I asked quietly, "That we can never go back?"

I stood up and took a final drag of my cigarette before stamping it out in the immaculate ashtray on his desk. His careful eyes watched me as always, wondering if he should take away my one, last shiny toy.

"I understand that more than you ever will," I sighed.

"I don't want to see you hurt, Eiri. Shindou-san is not the person he once was."

I nodded slowly. "No, he's not."

I chewed on the silence between us for a moment. Shuichi had changed, that much was true. But hadn't I, also? Hadn't I become obsessed with him, letting myself fall to pieces over the dream of him? Or, perhaps, that was the real me. Fixated on the past and never moving forward. Even now, as Shuichi barrels onward with or without me, I'm happy with the small, false delights he keeps providing for me. I'm happy with the memory of a lovesick idiot. Am I really seeing him? Really seeing who Shuichi is? No, I don't think so. And I don't want to see. I know that as well as Seguchi does. How long until Shuichi catches on? Or, has he already?

"I don't deal well with change."

The voice that had spoken those words had been strangled and strange. The voice that had spoken those words had been mine.

"I know," Seguchi said softly, rising from his chair and standing in front of me.

I looked into his wide, probing eyes and I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking about removing the source of my discomfort again. Hadn't he realized yet? That taking away Shuichi was the single most destructive thing that anyone could do to me? And to think that I had done it to myself. A question burned through my mind: How much damage had I inflicted on Shuichi in the process of my own self-destructive behaviour?

I looked away from Seguchi. I was tired of the way he thought he knew how I was feeling at all times. Yes, he often came very close to the target, but there was only one person who ever saw me clearly at all times. There was only one person and I had been without him for far too long. I pulled out another cigarette and lit it and twisted carefully away from the hand Seguchi was extending towards me.  
"Eiri-san."

"What?" I asked as I crossed the room, my hand on the door handle.

"Be careful."

I snorted derisively and yanked the door open and rushed into the hall. Be careful. With Shuichi? Be careful of what? Catching his stupidity? I slowed my frenzied pace, coming to a slow stop in the hallway. There I was again, falling back on old ideals. There was something more calculating in the way Shuichi moved and spoke now. There was an assertiveness and self-confidence that was wholly not reliant on me or anything having to do with me. The kid had made it big and he had only really done so once I had forced him away. He didn't need me and he wasn't stupid. But he didn't need to know either of those facts, did he?

I started to walk again, brainlessly approaching the elevator. Whatever this was – the remnants of a broken dream, or the start of a new era – I would grasp onto it and crush it until there was nothing left to grip. This would either end in the complete and utter destruction of the life we had, or it would blossom into something stronger than before. In either instance, I would never let Shuichi out of my grasp again.

The elevator opened to a silent hallway. I had half expected to hear the familiar sound of Shuichi's excited voice echoing through the halls. It was my last memory of this place – his noisy existence and inane statements. But, his words were well-chosen now, every statement carefully constructed to conceal his feelings. And his voice was hushed, reserved. In many ways, this was much better; the quiet and pensive Shuichi was refreshing and intriguing. And unnerving. In other ways, I longed to be irritated by his piercing, moronic conversation. I...missed it.

I walked down the hallway, pausing only to peer into Studio Three, Bad Luck's designated studio space, only to find it abandoned. Curious. Well, he couldn't have gone far. I pressed onward, nearly passing them altogether. It had been the shriek of a female voice that had caused me to glance in that direction and catch a glimpse of him. There was something in his stance that made him unmistakable. He could drown everyone else in the room out in an instant, and yet he holds that part of himself back. He makes himself small even though nature abhors it. Was I the reason, or was it simply maturity finally catching up with him? Even still, he stood out as he tried so hard to stay hidden. Shuichi and hidden were concepts that didn't belong in the same space.

"Hey," I said, unable to simply watch him anymore. I wanted to bring him home and set him free.

He turned towards me immediately and it took everything in my power not to stride into that room and pull him out.

"Yuki!"

Just for an eighth of a millisecond, I heard that enthusiasm that he'd always reserved for me. Back then he would have jumped all over me and I would have pretended to hate it. Internally, I had adored every second. He released a breath and broke eye contact, as though it was all he could do to maintain a mental balance. I mumbled a forced excuse, I don't even know what I'd said, anything to get him from the room. Anything to return to the lie I'd let myself believe.

Shuichi turned to excuse himself and that's when I caught sight of _her_. In any other circumstances, I would have been drawn in by her strange features. Clearly she was mixed and those green eyes were not contacts. Also duly noted, the look of loathing behind those green eyes was genuine. She loathed me. It hadn't taken me long to realize why. Shuichi had millions of fans. Fans who threatened me, fans who threatened him, fans who loved our relationship, fans who hated it, millions upon millions of variable fans. But this girl was not a fan. No, she was more than that. Something had happened between her and Shuichi. I wasn't sure what kind of something, but _something_ had given her the idea that she had a claim on him. She made no other possessive move; she simply stared at me. Shuichi said my name once and called me back to reality. How foolish to be shaken by one girl and yet I was. I was so much that I grabbed his wrist and yanked him from the room.

I wasn't really sure that there was anything to be concerned about there. If Shuichi had been in a relationship, it would have been reported in the papers here. Fuck, not even just here – it would have been all over the world. My insides twisted uncomfortably. Then again, Seguchi had ways of keeping the private lives of his artists quiet. He had many ways of silencing the media. And, he had a damn overprotective stance when it came to me. He could have easily kept this from me. He could have hidden any relationship Shuichi had ever had from me. Shuichi could have...

"Yuki Eiri."

It was his tone that made me stop. His voice held a dull, emotionless tone as he said my name, as though he had been dealing with an petulant child.

"I can walk on my own, you know," he said in that same flat tone.

I looked down at my hand clenching the pale circumference of his wrist and dropped it immediately. I stared at the pink, finger-shaped ring forming on his skin, slightly horrified at my reaction to the look in that girl's eyes. I looked away, unable, no, _unwilling_ to deal with my sudden bout of possessiveness. We were still standing there, in the lobby of NG, listening to Shuichi's voice pump out through the huge speakers at the doorway.

"Why are we just standing here?" I asked.

Shuichi looked at me, his expression unexpectedly unreadable. "I want to go home, Yuki."

Good. "So? Let's go home, then."

Shuichi sucked in a sharp breath and glanced to the side, as though gathering his thoughts. When had he become so difficult to read? I turned and started to walk towards the door when his words stopped me.

"No, Yuki. I want to go to my home."

"Your home?"

He nodded, his eyes unsure. "My apartment."

Oh. _That_ place. Leave it up to Shuichi to move into the highest profile building in Tokyo. Can't stay out of the damn spotlights even when relaxing. Fine. It took me a moment to realize what that meant. This was the same infamous brat who had stormed into my home with a sack of belongings and made himself right at home. Every single time I had moved, he had either found me on his own or moved with me. I had never, at least in the past four years and not even last year, thought of my home as _my_ home. I had always thought of it as _ours._

Something tugged insistently at the back of my mind, something unpleasant. I did my best to muffle it, but all I could hear was Shuichi telling me that this would somehow be better for us. That somehow, being apart from him would help me with my work. What the fuck was he saying? Hadn't he realized that I hadn't released a book in over a year? Hadn't he kept up to date with me as I had with him? My brain buzzed with colliding thoughts, painfully culminating in the center of my forehead.

"Shut up."

He persisted. The pain increased.

"Shut. Up."

I clenched my jaw in an attempt to quell the piercing pain in my head, silence my insecure thoughts.

"I can get my own ride home," Shuichi suggested, his voice a near whisper.

I blinked at him and the pain seemed to dissipate. It had become clear to me that we needed to address this past year. Well, maybe he didn't, but I certainly did. Living with insecurities didn't suit my image and as refreshing as his newfound independence was, I was starting to get sick of the way he constantly had the upper hand.

"No. I'll drive you."

Shuichi simply slid his sunglasses on, which I took as an acceptance of my offer. My car was exactly where I had left it, in clear line of sight from the door of NG. The crowd had grown outside of the studio, the screams had doubled. It was actually a little terrifying to think that fifty or so hired thugs were all that stood between us and certain death. Shuichi did not pause to sign any autographs and I did not open the door for him this time. I followed the NG car out of the studio driveway and pretended to be unfazed by the constant flashes of photographer's bulbs and the throng of people clawing at my car. If they'd damaged my Mercedes, so help me God...

"I guess you'll need directions," Shuichi said as he turned on the radio.

"No. I know where you live."

I could see his head snap towards me, his hand pausing on the dial leaving the radio on some idiotic talk show. I glanced towards him when he didn't resume his original action. His lips were parted slightly, as though he wanted to say something, and his eyes were wide behind his glasses. Had he honestly thought that I had really walked away from him altogether?

"What?" I spat, irritably.

His mouth snapped shut and he shook his head slightly. "Nothing. I just...no, it's nothing."

I snorted. For someone who had made a career of expressing himself lyrically, he was a horrible communicator. We drove the rest of the way in silence until I rounded his building. There were a few paparazzi hovering nearby, waiting for one of the building's infamous celebrities to try to make an exit, but I was willing to bet that most of the press were settled outside of my apartment. In a way, this would almost be a safe haven for us. At least for today.

"Where can I park?" My voice was quiet, even. The last thing I wanted was to lose my temper again. It never resulted in anything productive.

"Oh," Shuichi replied, his voice surprised, "Um, just around back. There's an underground parking lot. We'll have to call security in order to get in."

I followed his feeble attempts at directions, occasionally counting to ten to stop myself from snapping at him. We stopped in front of an intercom and I opened the driver's side window. Before I knew what was happening, he had undone his seatbelt and crawled across my lap to speak into the intercom. His scent hit me hard, a mixture of my shampoo, stingingly familiar, combined with his own distinct aroma. The bitter sting of tears started at the corner of my eyes and I closed them, inhaling deeply the scent that had redefined my life. Behind my closed eyes, memories reaped havoc with my mind. All the nights we'd spent together, the days he'd invaded my space, all the while fitting in so effortlessly, and, all the fights we'd ever had. I opened my eyes to see the slender nape of his neck, so smooth and perfect. So close to my lips. I felt myself leaning in involuntarily, my lips meeting his cool skin with delicate, tentative pressure.

Shuichi jumped and tensed. "Yuki!"

"That password is incorrect, sir."

"What?" he replied to the voice in the intercom, "Sorry. The password is 'a devil cries at midnight'."

The gate before us opened slowly and Shuichi crawled back to his seat, glaring at me in genuine confusion. I looked back at him unapologetically. We'd spent a week fucking constantly, how could one little kiss throw him off?

"That's a stupid password," I said.

Shuichi frowned. "It's lyrics from Sakuma-"

I cut him off as I jerked the car forward. "Stop. You're about to make it a lot stupider."

I could feel his glare upon me and I felt slightly relieved, surprisingly, by his anger. Every once in a while his mask slipped and I knew that he was still in there somewhere, the irritating little brat who'd taught me what it was to love again. I pulled into a spot labelled 'visitor' and turned the car off. Shuichi was out of the car before I had a chance to say anything to him. He waited for me behind the car, chewing on his lip anxiously. I stepped out of the car slowly, taking a moment to light a cigarette before walking up to meet him. He frowned at me and then started stalking away towards the small elevator lobby.

I followed him slowly and in silence. He stopped short in front of the elevator, his back to me.

"This is a non-smoking building," he said quietly.

I stared at the back of his head, almost expecting him to turn his face towards me and laugh. He didn't. Was he kidding me? I glanced at the freshly lit cigarette in my hand and then again at the back of his head.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Without turning, he shook his head in reply. What the fuck was the world coming to, I wondered. I felt an unusual and rather irrational wave of anger sweep through me. I had the sudden inclination to believe that he had moved into this _non-smoking_ building to lock me out of his life.

"Fine," I replied coolly.

I left him there without another word, taking my fresh, sweet nicotine back out into the parking lot. I knew he would follow me out at some point. It wasn't in his nature to leave me alone for very long. I was halfway through the cigarette before he pushed the door open quietly and stood beside me. I could feel his eyes upon me but I kept mine firmly on the glowing embers of the cigarette.

"Yuki, I," he paused, "I just...you know."

"No, I do not know."

"Well, there's rules. I didn't want you to be kicked out." His voice trailed off weakly.

"Oh," I said, crushing the cigarette out against the wall. I turned to face him and the look on his face was enough to squeeze my heart just a little. I ignored the feeling and focussed on my fading anger.

"I thought you were just trying to keep me out." My voice betrayed me, unexpectedly cracking mid-sentence.

Shuichi's face collapsed and I knew my original assumption had been correct. I looked away and swallowed.

"Let's see this place of yours," I said, my voice still raw.

I couldn't look at him, knowing that I wouldn't know exactly what he was thinking. I hated what that meant. I really hated that I had become so invisible while he had become so opaque.

Shuichi seemed eager to ignore what had just transpired, which was fine by me. The less time we spent focussing on feelings, the better. His apartment was on the top floor, as was fitting for an international superstar. I wasn't sure what to expect when he opened the door, but the neat, tidy minimalistic decor was not it. Perhaps I had had more of an impact on him than I had ever imagined.

"I'm home," he said quietly as he pulled off his shoes in the doorway.

I wondered if there had been someone to accept those words for him last year. I didn't really want to know. I followed suit and pulled off my shoes as well. He turned to face me, his lips stretching into a thin, nervous smile.

"Well, this is it," he said, his eyes flitting off in every direction except mine, "Here's the kitchen. Do you want tea? I can make us some tea."

I ignored him as he banged around cupboards looking for the teapot. He probably ate out a lot; he was a disaster in the kitchen, after all. I highly doubted that had changed. My feet sank into plush carpeting as I made my way to the living room. His furniture arrangement was nearly identical to that of the first apartment we had shared, but I wasn't interested in that so much as the photo that he had set on top of his television.

Two summers ago, I had taken him with me on a writer's retreat in Hokkaido. It had been a damn waste of time, but Mizuki had felt it would be beneficial. It sure as hell wasn't beneficial in terms of writing, but Shuichi and I had an extremely _beneficial_ holiday. Shuichi had taken the picture himself, catching me off guard as I laughed at something he was rambling about. I had tried to keep those smiles private but I was glad he had caught this one. With the sun streaming around us and the way Shuichi was watching me and smiling, the picture was an unexpected treasure. More importantly, the fact that the picture was on his television was evidence that last year had been a mistake. A horrible mistake.

I reached out and held the picture in my hands. He hadn't been home since we'd returned to Japan, which meant that this photo had been sitting on his television set for the month he'd been gone. A month he'd spent with Sakuma Ryuichi, but it's best not to dwell on these matters. Not now. Maybe later.

"I love that picture." His voice surprised me from my reverie.

I glanced at him, his face so sombre and still. What would it take to make him smile again? My hand dropped to my side, taking the photo with it, which made him raise his cautious eyes to my face. They lingered on my lips for half a second, an unconscious cue for me to kiss him. And I wanted to so badly. I moved in, my lips were mere millimetres from his when he pulled back and looked away. I rolled my eyes and stood up straight, unconsciously pulling out a cigarette. I was seconds from lighting it when Shuichi reached up and grabbed it from my mouth, snapping it in half in one smooth movement. Normally I would have been angry about the waste of a perfectly good cigarette, but the dark fire in his eyes killed my anger in its infancy.

"I told you there was no smoking in here," he said sharply, redirecting his eyes away from my face, towards the floor.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him despite the fact that he obviously couldn't bring himself to meet mine. It was obvious that his outburst had very little to do with my smoking habit. Changed or not, it took more than a momentary slip up to piss Shuichi off like that. I sighed loudly and sat down on his couch. Wordlessly, he sat beside me, his eyes still pointed straight ahead.

"I didn't expect you to come here," he said at length.

I stared at his profile in shock. What exactly had he expected me to do? Storm off like a two-year old? My hands sunk into the couch cushions in a preamble to standing up.

"Well, I can leave if you'd like."

His hand closed around mine instantly, pulling me back down to the couch with gentle insistence. I remained seated. His eyes searched my face.

"I don't want you to leave. I just...this is weird."

He smiled gently and drew in a soft breath. I smiled. What a way to understate it. Well, I may as well get this ugly business over with. I drew in a breath and spat it out in the worst way possible.

"Let's talk about it."

God, that was painful. Shuichi's face scrunched up in confusion.

"What?"

"That... _shit_ last year."

Shuichi's expression went from confused to blank to...infuriated.

"That shit last year?" he repeated in a whisper.

He looked away from me, his mouth downturned in the most miserable manner. "You mean last year, when you decided to fuck every model and actress in Japan?"

His words were acidic, hitting home with their acrid accuracy. For some reason, the painful truth only caused me to retaliate with equal acidity.

"No, I meant the year in which you decided to flee the country rather than deal with reality."

His expression was murderous while I kept mine perfectly blank. At least, despite the boiling of my blood, I hoped it was blank. I wanted this. I wanted him to be angry with me. I wanted to feel his punishment rather than just knowing that it was lurking beneath his carefully applied veneer.

"That was my reality," he said through gritted teeth, "You left me. You moved on. So did I."

That girl's face jumped into my mind and I felt my blank mask slipping. At the same time, I felt the frame of the photo imprinting painfully into the palm of my hand. I hadn't even realized I'd still been holding it. I felt my lips curl up in a smug smirk.

"Did you?" I asked, holding the photo out to him.

He ripped the photo from my hand, his eyes still on my face. "I said I loved that picture. It doesn't mean that I love you."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his face collapsed into dull shock. Those words hit my heart as heavily as a direct punch to the stomach. I felt the smirk melt away from my face and I looked away from him. Fuck. I really needed a cigarette. The buzzing started in my head again, culminating once more in the centre of my forehead, ideas and thoughts and terrible scenarios crashing together dissonantly.

"Yuki, I-," his words were strangled by the buzzing. Another sound, his cell phone ringtone, joined in the noise, making the pain nearly unbearable. I felt Shuichi's hand on top of mine and it was more than I could handle right then.

"Answer your goddamn phone!"

I couldn't tell if I had shouted or if my normal voice was simply that loud and grating all the time. The ringing stopped abruptly and I drew in a long breath which seemed to subdue the buzzing a bit.

"Seguchi-san? Oh. Yes. No, that will be fine. Of course."

I heard Shuichi snap his cell phone shut and I turned to look at him once more.

"Yuki," he paused, as though totally rethinking what he was about to say. He chose to change the subject. "That was Seguchi-san. I have to be at the television studio in an hour."

I blinked at him, grateful that the pain had subsided almost completely. "Fine."

"K is going to pick me up."

"Whatever."

"Yuki?"

I looked into his eyes again. He was sorry. That's what he was going to tell me. But was he really? Wasn't he just feeling sorry _for me_?

"Save it. I'm going."

I pushed off the couch and made my way to the door as quickly as possible. He had followed me, of course. As I turned, the ring on his finger caught my eye. He'd put it back on because I had asked him to do it, but did he really want to be wearing it? Hadn't he appeared before me while I was a desperate, clinging mess? Why, when his life was so organized and perfect, would he willingly invite a walking disaster back into his life? I knew the answer. He couldn't leave me there. He couldn't walk away from anyone in need. Maybe I was no different from Reiji dangling off the rooftop. Maybe there was nothing special about me anymore. Maybe he meant what he'd said; maybe he didn't love me.

I took a step towards him, which seemed to surprise him as he stumbled backwards into the wall. I closed the distance between us entirely, my arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him even closer. I took one look in his unsure, dark eyes and I knew that I had regained control - at least for now. I pressed my lips to his in a kiss that demanded all he had to give. Instead of the lack of response I had expected, he pressed the length of his body back into me. His tongue slid into my mouth and I groaned, gripping him even tighter to me. I pulled away from his mouth suddenly, before I lost complete control and trailed kisses along his neck, savouring the ragged sound of his breathing in my ear.

"Shuichi, you may not love me anymore," I whispered in his ear, "But I'll make sure you can't live without me."

I pushed off of him with every ounce of willpower that I could muster and escaped out the door before he had a chance to respond. I hurried towards the elevator in case he had a mind to follow me. Once the elevator door was safely closed, I let out the breath I had been holding and leaned heavily against the wall. Who was I kidding? I was the one who couldn't live without him.


	4. Whatever It Takes

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies.  
_**

_AN: What to say? I guess I don't know how I feel about this chapter. Could be better, could be worse. -shruggles- It is what it is. Enjoy.  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_I've been lying here for like a million years in my bed  
Get up, get up, get up_  
_All the time I can hear you talking in my head  
Shut up, shut up, shut up_

_Everybody says I should be moving on  
Everybody knows I'm still waiting_

_I don't care whatever it takes to be with you  
Your under my skin and no matter what I do  
I'm nothing without you so I'll do whatever it takes_

_I've been thinking about how we could have done things differently  
Give up, give up, give up  
Yesterday I could have sworn I heard you calling me_  
_Wake up, wake up, wake up_

_Everybody says "baby, life goes on"  
Everybody knows I'm still waiting_

_I don't care whatever it takes to be with you  
Your under my skin and no matter what I do_  
_I'm nothing without you so I'll do whatever_

_I'll do whatever it takes  
Nothing will stand in my way  
We had it good  
I want it back  
I know your feeling the same  
And I'll do whatever it takes_

_I don't care whatever it takes to be with you  
Your under my skin and no matter what I do  
I'm nothing without you  
I have to be with you  
So I'll do whatever it takes_  
_-Whatever It Takes, The Faders_

Shuichi

"Shuichi, you may not love me anymore, but I'll make sure you can't live without me."

Those words, accompanied by Yuki's hot breath in my ear made my world stand still. His stepping away and out the door left an immediate hole in my soul, and yet I could do nothing. It was the same when he had told me that he loved me in the graveyard, only that time I was the strong one. I'd thought I was still, but I was wrong. Totally wrong. I barely noticed my hand coming up to my face until my cold fingertips brushed my lips. Lips that Yuki had just kissed.

I closed my eyes and let my whole world fall apart. My back hit the cool wall behind me with a dull force that I didn't really feel and then I slid, down, down, down. Yuki. Yuki wanted me. Yuki wanted me _so badly_. There was a time when this information would have sent me into a mad, upward spiral of intense emotion, but right now I felt...confused. Torn. Ripped to shreds. Leave it up to Eiri to utterly destroy my carefully designed psyche. A year of scrupulous planning ruined in one instant. It was enough to make me laugh. And cry. Funny when you notice that you're doing both at the same time.

I would have stayed there, crumpled on the floor all night if I could have, but K was punctual as usual. He pushed open the door to my apartment with his gun drawn when I didn't answer his knocking. And, as he was trained to do, his sharp eyes missed nothing. At first he said nothing. He simply put his gun away and watched me.

"Shuichi."

I looked up, my skin stretched tight over swollen eyes. Did I look sad? Angry? Insane? Did it matter?

"You look like shit," K said with a sigh.

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Well?" K asked expectantly.

"Well what?"

"Let's go, Shuichi!"  
Again, barely recognizing what was happening, I was scooped up off the floor and dragged out the door.

"The makeup people are going to have a fit when they see your face."

K just kept rambling, on and on. Endlessly. So what? So the make up people are going to have to do their job for once? So the infamous Shindou Shuichi doesn't look perfect for once? So what?

K had to practically place me into his car, even going so far as putting my seat belt on for me. I watched the pavement go rushing by out of the bottom of the window. What did it matter? Everything was falling apart. I knew I couldn't hold my own against a Yuki Eiri who wanted to make sure that I couldn't live without him. Didn't he know that I couldn't already?

We left the parking garage and the bright camera flashes made me wince, but I didn't move my head. Vaguely, I realized that the lights had dulled and that K had somehow dropped sunglasses over my eyes. It was awful to have to wear sunglasses at night. It was awful to have to have an armed guard at my side whenever I wanted to go outside. Fame. It's what I had been striving for since starting Bad Luck. Proving my worth as a musician, living for the music. But, Yuki changed that. I hadn't really realized it, but he had changed all of it. So when I found fame, it was meaningless. Now, it's simply an annoyance. Why should I have cameras in my face all the time? Why should people want to know what my every move is? Why should they care? Didn't they have lives of their own? Wasn't I just a person, too? Couldn't I just live my life?

K was humming something horribly out of tune and I scowled at my reflection in the window, glancing up at last to see that we had arrived at the television studio. Apparently my appearance had been announced somewhere because the number of screaming fans was incredible. I walked past them without pausing to sign any autographs. Right now, I resented these people for putting me on a pedestal. I was no one, really. Just a guy. A guy who'd royally fucked up the defining relationship of his life. A guy in love with a man he couldn't possibly hope to ever understand.

I caught two words being thrown around in the crowd besides my own name and my blood froze. I stopped there on the pathway to the door and the crowd of mostly girls went insane, but they were in the back of my mind.

"K?"

K turned around and looked at me quizzically.

"What kind of show is this?"

"Oh," K replied, turning back around and gripping my wrist fiercely, "Just _Sakura Love_."

He'd known what I'd do when he said those words, which was why he'd grabbed my wrist so tightly. My legs locked and I broke into a cold sweat. Sakura Love. I hadn't been hearing things. They'd really been saying Sakura Love. K gave my arm a rough tug.

"Does Seguchi-san know about this?" My voice hit octaves of hysteria I hadn't even imagined possible.

K frowned at me and tugged my arm again, pitching me forward. "Of course. He set it up."

"Why does he hate me so much?" I moaned as he pushed me through the door.

Okuri Sakura was the most infamous gossip in all of Tokyo, if not all of Japan. She was notorious for backing celebrities into corners and using the audience to get the answers she was digging for. Not to mention, she had no scruples about prying into the private lives of stars. In fact, it was the basis of her popularity. Seguchi-san had always declined my appearance on _Sakura Love_. I knew that he was protecting Yuki by doing so, but even last year he had taken precautions to avoid certain interviewers. It appears that now he is as angry with Yuki as he is with me.

"It'll be fine, Shuichi," K insisted with a broad smile as he forcefully pushed me into a dressing room.

"No, it won't," I mumbled.

Of course I didn't have a chance to say another word because I was attacked by makeup and hair artists who tossed me into a chair with little concern for my person. My face was pulled this way and that way by various hands gripping at my chin.

"Oh, his face is very pretty."

"Yes. Who knew that what you see on television is what you get? So natural."

"But, look at those tender eyes! Have you been crying, Shindou-sama?"

"Huh? Well, I..." But I never got to speak because who should bound through the door but Okuri Sakura "Love" herself.

"Shindou Shuicihi!" she cried, hopping up on the counter in front of me, "I have wanted to meet you for _ages._ And who wouldn't, I ask you? What, with dating the totally uncatchable Yuki Eiri? Amazing. It was such a shock, as you can imagine. He was such a notorious womanizer and then BAM!" I jumped at her words. The woman was truly terrifying with her sharp eyes and dangerously flawless appearance. "A boy. A pop star in the making, no less. But, now? Now you're a _star_ in your own right. Aren't you just gorgeous? I could eat you up."

And I believed her. The closer she got to me, the harder I pressed into my chair.

"Blue," she said, suddenly, "And short."

"I'm sorry, but-" Again, I was cut off.

"Oh my GOD. Your voice is just to DIE FOR."

Then she grabbed my face between her two, cool palms and stared into my eyes. "You are fabulous. We're going to have a great time."

With that, hurricane Sakura was out the door and a very creepy, sly looking man sidled up behind my chair.

"Sakura is a genius," he sighed as he began running his hands through my hair, "You _do_ look best with blue hair, Shindou-san. And short? Wow. I don't think I've ever seen that. I'm so excited."

Good God. I glanced at K in the mirror who gave me an 'OK' sign with his hands and disappeared out the door. The madman behind me began attacking my head with a dangerous gleam in his eye while a small woman dabbed something under my eyes.

"It really looks as though you've been crying," she remarked quietly. She stood up and regarded me with a smile. "But, I can't even imagine the cool Shindou Shuichi crying!"

If she only knew what I was like behind the facade. And so they carried on, dying and cutting my hair, dressing me up like a paper doll, until I didn't even recognize myself. Then they were gone, even K.

I stood in front of the mirror, not even knowing who that person was inside of it. He was cool, collected, the very picture of a rock star. In a way, he emulated Sakuma Ryuichi and yet he had invented his own persona. His blue hair was cut short in the back with long, straight pieces stretching over his left eye. His skin was flawless and his expression was carefully blank. He was untouchable. He was a rock god. He was… _me_.

For some reason that revelation made me indescribably sad. They could cut my hair and dress me up in leather pants; they could make me look this way because this was the only Shindou Shuichi that they knew. I could see my cargo pants and black t-shirt tossed in the corner of the room reflected in the mirror. It felt like ages since I had pulled them on at Yuki's, but it had only been this morning. Why had this day been so hard? And why did it have to end in such an awful way? Why couldn't I have just told Yuki the truth instead of hurting him?

I narrowed my eyes at the man in the mirror and in that moment I hated him and all his cool, rock star posing. I couldn't tell Yuki how I felt because this fake me wouldn't allow it. He reminded me that Yuki had made him who he was, who _I_ was. Yuki might not love this me. Yuki might only love a memory. I had to be sure before I could ever let him in totally. I had to know that he really wanted _me_. That he really loved _me_. Even if I didn't know who 'me' was anymore.

"Shuichi!" K stuck his head in the dark dressing room and I could see his face fall in the mirror.

I turned and smiled that signature half-smile. "What's the matter, Mr. Manager? Don't recognize your client?"

The look that passed over K's face stabbed at my heart. It had only been a mere millisecond, but in that glance he'd told me that he didn't recognize me. That he hadn't for a long time. Then his face stretched into a wide, familiar smile.

"Ha, ha, ha! Shuichi! Let's go!"

I could hear Sakura building me up to the audience. I took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly, closing my eyes. In the darkness of my mind, I saw Yuki's face and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I didn't have a chance to recover before K gave me a rough shove onto the stage. The crowd went ballistic and I felt the cool, collected persona whom I had relied on over this past year had simply abandoned me and left me for dead. I smiled nervously at the crowd and took my seat next to Sakura.

"So, Shindou Shuichi, the question on everyone's mind right now," she paused dramatically, allowing the crowd to fill in the silence by shouting 'Sakura's question of the day', "Are you and Yuki Eiri a couple once again?"

I stared at the microphone that she'd shoved in my face. That question wasn't so simple to answer. _Lie!_ I mean, were we together? Hadn't I just rejected him? _Shuichi, you idiot! Just LIE!_ And yet my eyes just dropped to the ring on my left hand. _LIE! FOR FUCK'S SAKE, LIE! IT'S SAKURA LOVE! YOU WILL BE DESTROYED IF YOU TELL HER THE TRUTH! _It was too late, of course, for the cameras had already focused on my ring. I was giving too much away with my actions and silence.

"Well," I started. There was a silence in the room that could not be compared to as they waited for my response. "That's complicated."

Sakura's sharp face stretched into wicked grin. "How so?"

My mouth fell open and I snapped it shut again. She was goading me on. This was what she did. Why, oh why did the 'cool' me have to leave like that? I closed my eyes and released a little sigh. What would Shuichi the rock god say?

"All relationships are complicated."

I watched her lip twitch in bemusement. "So, you're not denying that you're in a relationship with Yuki Eiri?"

I couldn't help but let a smirk escape. "It would be stupid for me to say that, don't you think?"

"Shindou-san, you were away for quite some time," she moved on without missing a beat. Ooh. Nice counter. What a scary woman. I'd like to see her and Seguchi go head to head.

"Yes."

"Where did you go?"

"I'd rather not say."

But Sakura Love would not be deterred. "Why did you go?"

"Well, it's nice to get away once in a while, don't you agree?"

My palms had started to sweat. There was no way I could keep this up. It was only a matter of time before she brought up Yuki again.

"It didn't have anything to do with Yuki Eiri?" Bingo.

"Why would it?" My voice had cracked and she smiled in a really predatory way.

"Well, you did return from the U.S. with Yuki Eiri, did you not?"

Of course, leaving no room for argument, the video screen behind us flashed a huge photograph of Yuki and me walking through the airport hand-in-hand.

"I did."

"And you still claim that your disappearance had nothing to do with him?"

"Well, no. I mean, not everything to do with him."

That was the moment when I realized that I had said too much. I was distracted by the ten foot Yuki behind me and that sweet smile they'd captured. I was lost in a nice memory.

"So, he _did_ have something to do with your disappearance?"

I chuckled weakly. "You got me. Can we stop calling it a disappearance?"

"But what else would we call it, Shindou-san? Nakano-san admitted on television not one week ago that you were missing. Gone, without a trace."

"Oh," I said, my voice wavering, "That Hiro. What a kidder."

"Hmm? He seemed sincere to me."

"Well, he's…clever like that."

And the assault continued: "Back to Yuki Eiri. Were you with him the entire month you were missing?"

"No."

Oh, stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Shuichi. Never EVER tell Sakura the truth! I watched as her terrifying eyebrows rose to new heights on her forehead.

"Oh. And who were you with?"

I looked away from her and smiled to myself. Had she honestly thought that I would divulge everything?

"That's not really important."

"Hm. Well, I think it's time that we pass the mic to the audience, don't you?" she asked the crowd. They knew the drill of course.

"SAKURA SESSION!" They shouted in unison.

This was where most celebrities fell apart. Sakura would back them into a corner, plant ideas in the audience's heads, and then let the chips fall into place. I steadied myself mentally. I knew what would be coming: questions about Yuki and me, questions about where I was and what I was doing, maybe the odd question about my music. I did not expect the first question.

"Shindou-sama," a red-faced girl who couldn't have been out of middle school said quietly into the mic, "You weren't..."

Sakura pounced on the sudden silence and prodded the girl on. "Go on, go on. Shuichi is here to answer your questions!"

The girl swallowed audibly through the mic, "You weren't, maybe, with Sakuma-sama, were you?"

I felt my smile falter and slide. How had she known? How? What do I say? How do you lie to a red-faced middle schooler?

"Um, no." I wasn't even convincing myself at that point. "Wh-why would you think that?"

"Well, if you weren't with Yuki-sama, I thought you might be with Sakuma-sama. He's your idol," the girl paused again and turned a brilliant crimson, "And he's beautiful. You would make a very cool couple."

Apparently this had been too much for her because she ran away from the mic, leaving me relieved.

"Maybe you were with Oshira Asuki," a girl stated.

My face must have betrayed my confusion. No one knew about Asuki. No one. This one would be easier to lie about.

"Oh, sorry. Who?"

The girl glared at me and stalked away from the microphone. Had Asuki and I become common knowledge? I really didn't know where the girl would have received this information. Of course, Sakura couldn't resist butting in.

"Who is this Oshira Asuki?"

I turned about to answer her before I realized my folly. I closed my mouth slowly. "I don't know."

The glaring girl returned to the microphone, pushing a smaller girl out of the way. "You're lying! Oshira Asuki is the lead singer of Fevertouch! They just signed with NG! I saw you leave a concert with Asuki-chan!"

Oh, so she must have known Asuki. Come to think of it, they were probably the same age. "I'm sorry. You must be mistaken."

My voice had grown cold at that point which prompted Sakura, surprisingly, to have security remove the girl from the audience. There was no time to reflect on how shaken that question had made me for the small girl who'd been knocked over walked up to the mic and stood on her tippy toes to make her request.

"Shindou-sama, could you please sing us a song?"

I smiled. This was something I could do. It would be hard all alone, with no instrumentation, but I could do it. I was born to do it.

"Sure. What would you like to hear?"

"Something new," she said softly.

"Something new," I repeated softly.

I closed my eyes and thought about Yuki. There was one song I could sing, even without instrumentation. I shouldn't, but…Yuki. Yuki, Yuki, Yuki. My mind full of his perfect face, I started to sing. My voice was soft and uncertain at first, but that was fine. It was how this song should begin. It was a song about Yuki. Loving Yuki. Being with Yuki. Losing Yuki. And finding him again. All of it not-so-cleverly disguised as a song about snow. I opened my eyes once I had finished the song, suddenly aware of the overwhelming silence.

I glanced at Sakura, sitting beside me and realized that there were tears in her eyes. I looked out towards the audience and noticed that a good number of the audience were weeping in their seats.

"I'm sorry. I...," I paused, looking to K for help, but even he looked stricken. What had I done?

"That was so beautiful," Sakura said in a hushed tone, staring at me in awe. "Well, there you have it. We didn't quite get to the bottom of Shindou Shuichi's disappearance, but we did get to the bottom of his heart. Good night, my lovelies."

It happened so fast, but as soon as the cameras were switched off, the audience swarmed the stage. K came in and swept me up, running me to my dressing room, grabbing my clothes and then running out the door. Once I was safely placed in the car, and we were driving away, he let out a breath.

"I think you did well, Shuichi. Held your own against Sakura. Very good," he paused and sighed again, "But that song is going to cause some trouble."

"It was about snow."

"Sure. It was about _snow_."

We sat in silence as we drove onwards. What was there to say? The song wasn't really about snow and anyone who'd heard would know that. It was the most obvious thing I'd ever written and it was never meant to be sung, especially not on television. Live television. I hadn't done anything that foolish for a very, very long time. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but there was no taking it back now.

"You know, Shuichi," K started. His soft tone made me snap to attention. I stared at his pensive profile.

"What?"

"You don't need to see Yuki."

I stifled a laugh and looked out the window again. He'd like to think that, wouldn't he? That I don't _need_ to see Yuki. But he'd be wrong. I need Yuki. I've always needed Yuki. Without Yuki, everything falls to pieces. I fell to pieces. I'm surprised I'd made it through the year.

"It's just," K continued, pausing to gather his thoughts, "When you're with him, you fall apart."

I laughed out loud at that. If only he knew the truth!

"Shuicihi, I haven't seen you like this in over a year."

"Of course not. I'm a practiced actor."

It was the first time K really stopped and looked at me. Looked through the mask and saw me for what I was. His face was full of this sort of sad recognition. A recognition that he had missed the real me, lurking beneath grace and beauty. That I was still a loud, obnoxious brat screaming to escape from his perfect cage. Yuki completed me. Because of Yuki, I was able to make music. Even when we were apart, it was always Yuki behind every word I ever wrote. Yuki telling me that it wasn't good enough. That I had zero talent. That he didn't love me anymore.

But, I don't even think that Yuki understands what this means now. I told him once that it was possible to have two "number ones" in his heart. There was a time when that would have been good enough. It would have been enough for me to share that top spot with Kitazawa. But now, now I realize that over time, there is no way that two things can occupy the number one spot. There's no way. I would gladly give up music for Yuki's love, because I had tried to live for the music and all I'd felt was loneliness. I don't know when I realized it, but music is my number two. Because without Yuki, the music is empty.

We stopped at a light and I glanced out the window. From here, I could see Yuki's building. From here, I could run to it, run to Yuki. Then, without thinking, I did something stupid that I hadn't done in a really long time: I opened the door and ran. I could hear K cursing behind me and I could recognize my own folly. The world wasn't a safe place for me anymore. I couldn't just go to the grocery store, or take a walk on the street. Anonymity wasn't mine to possess anymore. I could get hurt, be attacked, killed. I knew that the threats existed but, I didn't care. I wanted to live and I only really cared about one thing at that moment. Yuki. I wonder if he knew? I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing out the tears I'd been holding in for a full year. Does he know that I can't share number one anymore? Does he know I won't? I can't. It's unacceptable.

I bounded into the building. I'm so recognizable that there was no hold up by the doorman. He knew me. He knew where I was going. The elevator would take too long, so I ran up the stairs, two-by-two. Finally, I was at his door. I used to have a key, but that wasn't appropriate anymore. Not by my own set of standards. So I rang the bell, over and over again. If he wasn't home, I didn't know what I would do. And then the door opened, leaking yellow light into the hallway like a sunbeam peeking through the clouds. Yuki. His beautiful, perfect face went from irritation, at my insistent ringing, to surprise. He raised one perfect eyebrow, his lips curving into a perfect smirk.

"Your hair is blue."

The tears flowed suddenly, unstoppably and I could see the irony on his face melt away to concern.

"Shu, what's wrong?"  
And that was it. I let his concern envelope me until I could bear it no longer. I flung myself into his arms, slamming my mouth into his. Love me. Love me, Yuki. And only me. Make me forget, Yuki. Make me forget last year and all the awful things I said; all the awful things you said. Make me forget loneliness and emptiness. Make my music real again. Make _me_ real again.


	5. Stumble

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies.  
_**

_AN: Aha! I have a shiny, new beta and she's done wonderful things with this chapter!! Much love to you, dear. About this chapter: I apologize for my bad poetry. Also, things get...smutty. That is all.  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_Look at me when I talk to you_

_You act as if I'm not standing next to you_

_Can't you see it's not you?_

_You're dumb enough to think what they say is true_

_Seems like we've been here_

_Hold me close and don't let me go_

_Sink unless I say so_

_Hold me close and don't let me go_

_Sink unless I say_

_Cover me over you_

_Digging up the dirt that has buried you_

_Are you done? Are you through?_

_Let me know the second they spit on you_

_Seems like I've been here_

_Hold me close and don't let me go_

_Don't let up unless I say so_

_Hold me close and don't let me go_

_Don't let up unless I say_

_I thought you wouldn't come_

_For all I know you're slipping away_

_I thought you wouldn't go_

_For all I know you're slipping away_

_~Stumble, Calla_

Eiri

The human body is fascinating. The routines it follows, the actions it takes based solely on habit. Fascinating. How I managed to get from Shuichi's apartment to my car and from the parking garage to my apartment, I'll never know. But I did. I didn't even recall pushing through the paparazzi to get into my building, at least not until I turned around in the elevator and saw them all crowding the doorway, bulbs flashing wildly. Even putting the key in the door and entering the dark abyss of my apartment was a mystery.

How long had I been sitting in the dark? Seconds had melded into minutes, which had changed into hours. All I could think of was the anger burning in Shuichi's eyes. It was very possible that he had meant what he had said. It was possible that he hated me. But then, why the passion behind the kiss? I'd nearly resolved then that if he hadn't responded, I would have either given up entirely or forced him for the very first time in our relationship. Instead his kiss was akin to a drowning man, gasping for air after being submerged. Or was that wishful thinking? Shuichi was my 'air', so I could be projecting.

The shrill ring of the telephone startled me into the waking world. Suddenly, I realized how dark my apartment really was. The bright red light blinking on the phone burned my eyes in the encompassing darkness. I reached across the couch to the end table and grabbed the phone.

"Hello?"

"Eiri-san," Tohma's smooth voice rolled into my ear.

"Seguchi," I sighed resignedly.

"You were hoping for someone else?" His tone irritated me. It was as though he reveled in mocking my pain.

"Always."

"How cold. Turn on your television."

"What?"

"I said-"

"I heard you. Why the fuck would I want to do that?"

"You want to see Shindou-san, no?" There was a bite to his soft tone that frightened me. What the hell had he done to Shuichi now?

"Seguchi," I hissed through gritted teeth as I struggled to find the remote.

Tohma laughed lightly. "Your concern for him is touching, Eiri-kun. Really. You do realize that he has managed to survive without his reluctant knight for over a year now, don't you?"

"I'm supposed to believe that you wouldn't hurt him? Do you really think I'm that naive?"

"I'm actually quite fond of him. He's a brilliant talent."

I muttered a curse at him as I finally found the remote under the couch. How the fuck had it gotten there? A memory flashed through my mind in that moment: Shuichi, fast asleep on the couch in the bright mid-afternoon sunlight, with the remote dangling from his fingertips. Ah, that's how.

"What channel, Tohma?" I growled into the receiver. My fingers were already pushing the buttons for Asahi TV. This was Shuichi we were talking about. He's a star, a huge star, and although my sense of time might have been skewed, I was pretty sure it was about time for _Music Station_ to start.

I heard an amused huff of air transmit through the ear piece and I could clearly envision Tohma's entertained, child-like face. "NTV."

"NTV? What? What show is he on?"

Tohma only laughed, undoubtedly because he could hear the garish theme music for _Sakura Love_ blaring from my television. _Sakura Love._ Fuck.

"You fucking bastard!"

The only answer I'd received was a dial tone. I tossed the phone beside me on the couch and stared at the screen in horror. Please, _please _have been fucking with me, Tohma. Please.

"_Tonight Sakura Love has a special guest for all of you lucky Bad Luck fans! Tonight I have finally caught up with the singing sensation who swept through our nation and beyond. The one, the only, SHINDOU SHUICHI!"_

I winced at the sound of that nasty woman's jarring voice. I'd made the horrific mistake, or rather, Mizuki had made the horrific mistake of putting me on _Sakura Love_ after my second book had been published. I was twenty-one years old and it was the last talk show I ever did. Okuri Sakura was, and still is, a horrible woman. But I supposed that I had nothing to worry about, really. Shuichi's public speaking skills had developed immensely over the past year. He would be fine. I hoped.

I was shocked when he walked across the stage. He smiled nervously toward the audience and I felt something hideous clawing at my insides. I'd never, _ever_ seen him look so _vulnerable_. Never mind what they'd done to his hair and the ridiculous clothing they'd put him in, his face was stricken.

"_So, Shindou Shuichi, the question on everyone's mind right now."_

_"SAKURA'S QUESTION OF THE DAY!"_

_"Are you and Yuki Eiri a couple once again?"_

If she had started with any other question, or if Shuichi had responded with an asinine giggle, I would have shut off the television, gone into my study, and pretended to write for an hour. But she had asked _that_ question...and Shuichi had hesitated. He'd hesitated, he'd given a vague, non-committal answer, and then he'd played with his ring. The ring I'd asked him to put back on. The ring I wasn't sure he wanted to be wearing. To make matters worse, the cameras zoomed in on said ring and then they flashed a photo of us shopping in Shinjuku three years ago, on the huge screen behind where they were seated. I remembered that picture as it had been in every single celebrity gossip magazine in Japan. I hadn't even seen the paparazzi that day, but then again I hadn't seen anyone but Shuichi that day. It was the day we'd exchanged rings, which was as close to belonging to someone as I'd ever been.

"_So you're not denying that you're in a relationship with Yuki Eiri?"_

Shuichi's small laugh echoed through my television speakers. "_It would be stupid for me to say that, don't you think?"_

He dodged the question easily leaving me totally dissatisfied. He gave nothing away with his perfect face except that he didn't want to be there. Beneath the make up and blue hair, he looked tired. Exhausted. _I_ had done that to him. _I_ had torn him up inside and then he'd gone off to appear on _Sakura Love_. I wondered what he was feeling. What went on in that head of his now? It was painful to see someone who used to be so open and transparent completely closed off the way Shuichi was now. It was almost exactly like the face Sakuma Ryuichi put on when he was facing the public. The problem was that Shuichi never took that face off.

Naturally, once Sakura wasn't able to pry any information out of him regarding his disappearance, she flipped over to audience questions. This would probably be the most difficult part for Shuichi, as most of his Japanese fans were young girls. Even in this closed off state, he had a hard time saying 'no' to the innocent.

The first audience member's question was particularly painful. The girl was so embarrassed that I was beginning to wonder if she would ever ask her question. Then I wished she hadn't. Sakuma Ryuichi. A cool couple, Shuichi and Ryuichi. It had angered me, the implication, not because I'd taken it personally, but because I feared the truth behind it. I feared the way Shuichi's eyes had widened and the pathetic manner in which he lied to a middle schooler. I feared that he would leave _Sakura Love_ and fly back to Los Angeles in search of something that he clearly couldn't find here. The only thing he'd ever hoped to possess and the one thing I'd held back from him for too long.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the next audience member brought up _that_ girl. The one from NG. The one with the accusing, foreign eyes. I only recognized the reference to her because Asuki is not a common Japanese name. In fact, it sounds like some Westerner's bastardized idea of a Japanese name. His reaction to the question was predictable, an almost textbook response as formulated by Seguchi Tohma. Plea ignorance and they'll go away. Only this girl didn't go away. She stood right there, glaring and accusing Shuichi of lying. Even I couldn't have predicted the level of iciness with which he addressed the girl. For Shuichi to respond with that sort of coldness was a clear indication that whatever this Asuki girl meant to him, it was not meant to become public knowledge. And knowing _that_ was worse than Sakuma implications. To lose Shuichi to his idol would be a pitiable situation with a lot of room for personal misery. To lose Shuichi to a girl with a nonsense name and an air of entitlement was enraging. As I sat there seething, I realized something: losing Shuichi to anyone at all was absolutely unacceptable.

_"Shindou-sama, could you please sing us a song?"_

A song. I glanced at the clock. If he played it right, he could sing himself to the end of the show. It would be a great way to stop the inquisition.

_"Something new."_

His voice was nearly maudlin, as though he knew just the song he was going to sing and the meaning behind it. The camera closed in on his sublime face as he opened his mouth to sing. The first notes were unsteady and uneven, but they sent chills down my spine regardless.

_"The snow falls unevenly onto the ground_

_Like the blanket you thought you'd never found_

_And something inside you comes alive, right now_

_Even when falling from far above_

_Even when spreading with your love_

_I can't believe you're here with me_

_In the sun, the sun, the sun, the sun_

_Dancing with stars, weaving through the night_

_Breaking us in two as though it were meant to_

_As though it were right_

_Falling, falling, falling_

_Falling, falling, falling alone tonight_

_I can't even stand still, the world is cold_

_There's nothing I can do, there's no one to hold_

_And something inside me comes alive, right now_

_Even as it falls apart_

_Like it had to from the start_

_I can't believe you're here with me_

_In the dark, the dark, the dark, the dark_

_Dancing with the stars, weaving through the night_

_Breaking us in two as though it were meant to_

_As though it were right_

_Falling, falling, falling_

_Falling, falling, falling together tonight_

_And nothing is fair_

_And nothing is clear_

_And nothing is right_

_And nothing is right_

_Falling, falling, falling_

_Falling, falling, falling_

_Out of sight"_

It wasn't the lyrics that had tears in Sakura's eyes or left the crowd weeping. It certainly wasn't brilliance, lyrically. It wasn't even _good_ lyrically. But, the lyrics didn't matter because there was such feeling behind the delivery that anyone who'd heard the song would be instantly pulled into his sadness. His voice was haunting and dangerously empty all at the same time. The only logical action someone could take when being immersed in such melancholy was to weep.

I flicked off the television in a fit of irritation. What had brought that on, I wasn't sure. Maybe it was his God-awful lyrics. Maybe it was that the song was clearly meant for someone. Maybe it was because I hoped it was meant for me. I hadn't even noticed that the people in TV-land weren't the only ones tearing up until I blinked.

My feet moved of their own accord and trudged onward toward my study. I flicked on the light as I made my way to my laptop. A thin layer of dust had actually formed on the lid. I let out a small laugh of disbelief. There was a time when all I hadwas the escape of writing. It was always a story of finding true love, there was always a struggle involved, and they generally ended in tragedy. An easy formula to follow. Simple and overused, and yet I became famous for it. Why? Because the hero or heroine, whoever I happened to be relating to at the time, was so realistically tragic: the girl who was raped as a child; the hit man who desired the wife of his target; the successful woman who fell in love with a high school student; the list goes on and on. What did these characters have in common? Simple. In each and every case, there was a mental barrier between them and their love.

I pressed the power button and waited for the computer to hum to life. The last story I'd been writing was the only one in which I couldn't relate to both main characters. That's what had forced me to give up on it, and then on writing in general. If I couldn't get into my character's heads anymore, what was the point? I moved the mouse over the 'Documents' folder and hesitated before double-clicking. Dozens of inane file names popped out at me. I always gave each story a file name that had nothing to do with its actual title or subject. The particular file I was looking for was entitled 'Kitazawa', but Kitazawa had nothing to do with it at all. I don't know why I'd called it that, maybe as some sort of sick, masochistic reminder that he'd existed; a twisted memento of how much I didn't deserve someone as pure as Shuichi.

The story that had been given the file name 'Kitazawa' followed the same simple formula, or at least it had in the planning stages. I hadn't decided how it was going to end, so I decided to push on without making that decision. I hated doing that; it was so ambiguous. It was the tale of an up and coming rock star and his unwilling lover who was clearly an awful, murdering human being. The problem was that I couldn't get into the rock star's head. I couldn't understand what he saw in his lover, who was cruel and did unforgivable things. In every attempted version of this book, my lead grew bitter and would leave his lover. Or he would be irreparably hurt.

Maybe last year had been a sick experiment. Maybe I wanted to know what would happen to my secondary lead without her rock star lover around. Maybe he'd go on a world tour, or make love to his idol, or fall in love with someone else. Maybe Shuichi was better off without me.

I jumped at the sound of my doorbell being rung. Over and over again. I glanced at the tiny clock on the right hand side of my monitor. Eleven thirty-three, hardly a reasonable hour to be ringing a doorbell over and over again. I tried to ignore it, afraid of who might be on the other side. My finger hovered over the mouse, clicking once to highlight the file and finally, no longer able to stand the incessant ringing, I stood up and walked to the door. There was only one idiot I knew who would ring a doorbell like that, but he'd died over a year ago. I'd killed him.

I wrenched the door open; ready to give whoever was there hell, only to be shocked into silence. Shuichi. Sweet, beautiful Shuichi. His cheeks were flushed and he was panting slightly, as though he'd just run a marathon. He was still dressed in those appalling _Sakura Love_ clothes: black leather pants, an overdone designer shirt and a light, short jacket. It looked like something more akin to Tohma's tastes than Shuichi's.

I was surprised to see him here but it wouldn't do well for me to admit it, so I said the first thing that came to mind, and probably not the smoothest.

"Your hair is blue."

Shuichi blinked at me a couple of times and seemed to be struggling with something internally. Tears leaked from his eyes without warning. What the hell had happened between the end of _Sakura Love_ and now? Fuck, I should have kept the television on instead of running off to my stupid, fucking story. I took a step towards him.

"Shu, what's wrong?"

Before I had a chance to say another word, his arms were around my waist and his warm body was pressed into mine so desperately. I wrapped my arms around him as he sobbed into my shirt. I took a couple of steps backwards, pulling him into the apartment just in case there was anyone around to snap a picture. It's funny how I couldn't give a fuck about my own image now, but his was near spotless and I had this strange, ingrained need to keep it that way.

I held him for a moment letting him bawl into my shoulder a while longer. I dragged a hand slowly over the back of his head, pressing my lips into the top of his head. He didn't smell like Shuichi. He smelled like peroxide and hairspray, with the slight medicinal scent of make-up. They'd made him so alien and I hated that. While he caught his breath in halting sobs, I looked him over and felt along his back and arms for any sign of trauma. He didn't appear to be hurt, at least not physically.

"Shuichi," I said, catching his shoulders lightly and pulling him away from me.

He looked at me with red eyes, streams of wetness running down his face. "I'm sorry, Yuki," he managed through his dying sobs.

I ignored his apology. "Are you alright?"

He stared up at me, chewing on his bottom lip and then shook his head.

"What can I do?"

His smile was small and ironic as he answered simply: "Make me forget."

It might have been considered taking advantage of him, he wasn't in any state for this, but in truth, I didn't really care. I didn't care because there would be a time, not long from now, when he would realize that I wasn't the one he wanted. But now, right now, he was begging me to help him forget. Forget what? Was I really concerned about it? No. Because I wanted to forget, too. I wanted to drown myself in Shuichi and pretend that I'd never pushed him away to begin with. That he was still upbeat and loud, and that his eyes still shone for me and only me.

My eyes focused on his trembling lower lip. He didn't know what he wanted, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. As I closed the distance between us, leaning in to kiss him, I paused to ask:

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

Because truthfully, he'd never looked so unsure. Or afraid. Or small.

His only response to my question was a slight tilt of his head and the closing of his eyes. I wanted to stop time here, before either of us did anything we would regret, but then again there was nothing that I was about to do that I would regret. So, why not go all out?

"I love you," I whispered before kissing him harder than I should have.

He didn't help matters by responding with equal violence, twisting his fingers in my hair and pulling. It should have pissed me off, but it didn't. In a frantic rush to pull off his jacket, I pushed him into the wall. Instead of whining about it, he thrust his hips toward mine. His response made me stop midway through removing his jacket. I pulled back and glared at him and he gave me a cocky half-smile, as his eyes just dared me to take it up a notch. It was not an expression I was used to from Shuichi during sex; it was something I was used to seeing at his concerts.

Still glaring at the petulant brat, I yanked the jacket down his arms and dangled it from my hand. I caught the back of his head with my free hand and kissed him again. But there was nothing I could do to subdue Shuichi, for his hands were nimble, sliding up my thighs and over my hips, his thumbs only lightly grazing over my erection and causing me to gasp into his mouth. I felt him smile into our kiss and slide his tongue deeper into my mouth. Who was this person? And what had he done with my Shuichi?

That being said, I liked this Shuichi, too.

His hands continued to glide over my torso, his fingers quickly undoing the buttons of my shirt. I dropped the jacket and let my hands skate down Shuichi's sides until I reached the hem of his shirt and then started to pull them back up, under his shirt. His skin was feverishly warm and so familiar. Shuichi broke our kiss, reluctantly on my part, and looked up at me, his expression brazen. Having already undone the buttons of my shirt, he trailed his hands up along my chest and pushed the shirt off of my shoulders, tugging it down, hard. The sleeves caught around my wrists, pulling my arms down to my sides. Keeping one hand on the shirt and unzipping my pants with his other, he trailed kisses along my collarbone. I struggled against my sleeves as he began to direct his kisses down my chest. His lips hovered just above my nipple as he breathed in and out through his mouth. The hot and cold sensation was an over stimulant and judging by the way he was watching my face, he knew it.

Shuichi shook his head at me slowly as I tried to free my hands and balled up the rest of the shirt behind my back, tightening the makeshift bonds. I lifted a bemused eyebrow at him, but before I had a chance to say anything, his mouth closed around my nipple. Involuntarily, I arched into him as his tongue traced delicate circles. His kisses continued downwards until I realized he was on his knees in front of me.

"Shu..."

But his hands were already at my hips, pushing my pants and boxers down. His mouth closed around me and I released an undignified yelp. He played me so easily, sucking and teasing and driving me to the edge with every in and out motion. I didn't even realize that my hands were relatively free until I felt both of Shuichi's hands cupping my ass. I would have tangled my hands in his hair, but with the recent haircut there wasn't any to tangle into. I settled for supporting the back of his head as he increased speed and drove me to ecstasy.

I gritted my teeth and nearly doubled over as I came into his mouth. Shuddering and weak in every facet possible, I felt Shuichi swallow and pull away. I let him go, vaguely aware of him wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He remained on the floor, reaching up and pulling on my hands to direct me down beside him. He crawled over closer to me and applied a gentle, leading pressure to my shoulders, pushing me to the ground. Placing his knees on either side of my hips, he hovered over me. It was only then, with his unreadable eyes attempting to interpret my face that I realized that he was still fully clothed save the stupid, fucking jacket. How was that fair?

Shuichi's kiss caught me by surprise with its fierceness combined with my own taste in his mouth. I was eager to touch him back, despite not being ready for a second round yet. I tried to bring my hands up only for them to be held down by my shirt.

"Fuck," I hissed, breaking the kiss.

Shuichi smirked and sat squarely on my stomach, leisurely working at undoing the buttons on the sleeves. As soon as my hands were free, I slid them up Shuichi's back, bringing his shirt with them. My hands went immediately to the waistband of his pants, but Shuichi stilled them after I'd only undone the top button. I looked at his face questioningly and he leaned in with a strange expression. His head veered to the side of mine and his teeth caught my earlobe gently, eliciting a gasp from me.

"I'll be your lover, Yuki. But that means I get to go all the way. No crying uncle when things get sweaty."

The sensation of his breath hitting my ear made me shiver beneath him, but his words haunted me. I stiffened and he pulled back so our eyes met. There was defiance and uncertainty in his eyes. Those words were familiar, but why? I was drawn back, way back, when I wasn't even sure what I'd been doing with the kid. When I was only playing, only taking whatever he was willing to offer. Was he playing with me now?

"I said that."

His expression changed slightly, as though he were surprised I could remember it. He didn't respond verbally, but went back to my ear, nibbling and licking until I cried out. I felt myself growing hard again beneath him. The role reversal was strange and enticing.

"I didn't think you'd remember," he breathed in my ear, "It was only a game, after all."

His words were like cold water on my soul. I reached up and pushed his shoulders back so that I could see his face. "Is this a game to you?"

Surprise melted into a slow, sly grin. I knew what it sounded like: sheer desperation. But, I would be lying to myself if I tried to say that I wasn't desperate for his love. Desperate for anything I could get, even if that was pathetic.

He kissed me, hard and demanding, as if trying to assert dominance through sheer force. I could have overtaken him, turned the situation around and demanded an answer, but I was too drawn in by his closeness and aggression. My hands were back at his pants, struggling in vain to remove them. Shuichi broke the kiss and twisted, bringing his legs together beside me, finally giving me enough leverage to push his pants right off. He kissed me again, parting my thighs tenderly with his knee and crawling between my legs. My hand wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down, sticky, warm pre-ejaculate catching between my fingers. Shuichi drew in a sharp, hissing breath before parting my lips unexpectedly gently with his fingers. I drew them into my mouth, knowing exactly where he was going with this, but would he actually follow through?

As though he had read my mind, his hand made a wet trail down my body. I tensed unexpectedly as his fingers delicately circled my opening. His soft lips met mine in a series of subtle, tiny kisses.

"You have to relax, Yuki. You have to trust me," he pulled up a little and looked at me.

His face at that moment was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Back lit by the faint yellow glow of the light in my study, his hair was darkened, appearing a deep green instead of the absurd shade of blue that it was. His earring glinted ominously, shining as glossily as his dark eyes did. I reached up, dragging my fingers along his neck and the side of his face.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked in a small, broken voice. Again vulnerability flooded his features ever so subtly.

"I trust you, Shu."

He bent down to kiss me again as he slipped one finger inside me. Pain mingled with pleasure and he paused, watching my face carefully. I closed my eyes, willing myself to relax. Shuichi would never hurt me. I felt the yielding pressure of his lips against my neck as he slid another finger in. Gripping his waist tightly, I cried out from the sensation. As his fingers worked magic in a way I hadn't ever experienced, I heard his sugar-sweet voice in my ear again.

"I want to be inside you, Eiri."

I don't know if I responded, or if I was even able to respond. Those words from his mouth were indescribably erotic.

Whatever I'd said, or moaned, Shuichi had taken as consent to carry forward, tenderly rocking us both to blissful oblivion.

Shuichi rolled to my side, curling up with his head against my shoulder. I glanced at him, hooded eyes, a tear stained face, and kiss-bruised lips. When had he become so beautiful? When he'd first stampeded into my life, he was nothing more than a punk with long hair and a dirty uniform. So, when had the transformation happened? Maybe, it was that I had been around him for so long that I hadn't notice the subtle changes as he went from brat to man. Or maybe, I'd always been blind to the beauty that he had until I'd realized that he wasn't mine anymore.

I brushed a long strand of blue hair away from his eyes and he looked up at me. His eyes were unreadable and his face more somber than I liked to see it. Even though this was nothing new, I suddenly realized that the floor was no place for someone like Shuichi. Anyone else in my position would have swept him off to 800-thread count sheets and loved him as tenderly as he deserved, but not me. No, I had to have him _right_ then, _right_ here. And what's worse is that there was probably a good chance that had it been anyone else in my position, he wouldn't have allowed this tryst on the floor to happen. It should have made me feel special, but instead it just made me feel like a real bastard. Feeling that way, I should have been able to look away from his inhumanly beautiful face. I didn't deserve to look upon it. But I am eternally selfish and if he was about to leave me forever, whether it be for Sakuma or that nonsense Asuki girl, I wanted to commit every single detail to memory. The way his unnaturally blue hair laid against his pale cheek, the wide expanse of his normally expressive eyes, his small, button nose and lush lips. The curve of his jaw, his ears, the smooth column of his neck. Every single aspect of him. Everything. I traced my finger along the edge of his ear, pausing lightly on the metal cuff.

"When did you get it?" I asked.

"When I was in L.A.," he answered automatically.

Something in my expression gave me away, or maybe I stiffened against him. Either way, his eyes shot up to mine worriedly.

"When I was on tour, not," he paused, looking down again, "recently."

"Why?"

"Why did I get it?" A small smile stretched across his face as he remembered something. I wondered, silently, whether this was a story I wanted to hear.

"Hiro wanted a tattoo. So, he had one done. A huge Sakura bloom right across his back."

I raised my eyebrows. I had a hard time envisioning Nakano getting a tattoo.

"Anyway, it took about three days. I just remember sitting there in this tattoo parlor, looking at my reflection in a mirror and wanting to do something," he paused looking down again, his voice had gone quiet, "scarring."

"Shuichi," I said softly, pressing my lips to his forehead.

His eyes met mine briefly and he gave me the tiniest smile. "Stupid, huh?"

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused you. I'm sorry I couldn't have been a better man for you. I'm sorry I pulled you down from that bright place to the dark chasm I'd created around me. I'm sorry for everything. I clutched him close to me, his chest cool against mine.

"No, Shu. Not at all." I hadn't realized that asking such a simple question would be so painful.

"Eiri?"

"Hm?"

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

You can stay with me forever. I was about to say it, but then I recalled our earlier conversation revolving around his apartment. He didn't _want _to stay with me forever. For all I knew, this could've been the last time he would come to me like this. If that were the case, I would need to do everythingI could to convince him to stay.

I stood up and stretched my hand out to him. Although his hand automatically rose to meet mine, his eyes still held that nagging uncertainty.

"You want to shower don't you?"

He nodded, still seeming unsure as he stretched up to his full height beside me. I sighed. There was only one way to make him believe I was being sincere.

"What? You think I'm going to let you go to bed like that? I just changed the sheets."

A true smile stretched across his face. "You're a real bastard, you know?"

I laughed, trying to keep the bitterness hidden. "Oh, I know."


	6. And Darling

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies.  
_**

_AN: So, I went through several very different drafts to get to this one. I think I like it. My beta likes it, so I'll trust her. ;) Enjoy, my lovelies.  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_Creep up and tell me that you  
You love me more each time you  
Look into my eyes I feel like  
I know you don't mean to be mean  
I'm sure you know the same for me  
When you creep up and tell me  
Darling  
It breaks my heart each time you  
Darling  
You break my heart each time you  
You slip your hands inside my pockets  
Tell me nothing else would do  
Without me you can't live and  
You slip your heart into my chest  
They both become one of the strongest pairs  
When strangers come  
And darling  
This thing that breaks my heart and  
Darling  
You break my heart each time you  
Darling  
This thing that breaks my heart and  
Darling  
You break my heart each time you _

_~And Darling, Tegan and Sara  
_

Shuichi

I couldn't sleep. It wasn't an unusual phenomenon; I hadn't been able to sleep for a year. But I was content to watch Yuki sleep. I'm sure that there are a thousand more appropriate words to describe Yuki beyond 'angelic' and 'beautiful', but I probably don't know them. Words are Eiri's thing. I'll bet that when he looks at me, he can come up with dozens of bright, shiny adjectives that I wouldn't even think of, but when I look at him all I hear is music. Wonderful music. Right now it's soft and lilting, a sweet melody of tenderness. Who knew what it would be in the morning?

The evenness of his breathing kept in time with the tune in my head as I watched him sleep. I'd always felt that the only time he was honest was while he was sleeping, but now I saw this face all the time. His eyes were always gentle now and his mannerisms, however forced, were softer. I wanted this to last forever. I wanted a vulnerable Eiri. I wanted to believe it wasn't a lie. Rolling onto my back and staring at the blank ceiling, I reminded myself that it _was_ a lie. False. Fake. Totally contrived. We were dancing circles around one another, waiting for the other to misstep. We both knew perfectly well what happened sixteen and half months ago, even if neither of us were willing to bring it up.

As though compelled, I turned to face Eiri again. It was hard to believe that such a beautiful person could harbour such an ugly side. I closed my eyes, swallowing in the process. I could almost smell the alcohol on his breath, see the anger in his eyes; feel the jealousy and desperation. I knew, as I had always known, that those things lurked beneath the surface, just waiting for the right trigger. I remembered a time when I'd wanted him to be jealous and possessive, but when I got what I wanted, I realized how much it _wasn't_ what I wanted. I'd been naive enough to believe that we were beyond that. No, I don't want to do this now. I just wanted to watch Yuki sleep and let the dream linger a little longer.

It was a mistake to come here in more ways than one. First of all, I had put forth the boundaries and then single-handedly tore them down in the same day. Eiri wouldn't deal with my putting them up again very well. He hated change. Then there would be the paparazzi problem. They'd been staking out the apartment building steadily since we'd come back, and Seguchi-san would have his hands full in the morning unless K thought of some clever way to get me out. Right, then there's K. I'm certain that he wouldn't be pleased with me in the morning. All of this was a huge mistake, but I couldn't bring myself to regret it. How can I regret hearing Eiri utter those words that I'd so longed to hear? Or, regret seeing him look at me with those eyes, solely directed at me? He had to know I couldn't live without him. He must've been aware of how much I needed him.

I rolled out of bed, sliding my body along the silk sheets. Eiri had them imported from India, or so he'd told me, very loudly, so long ago. Only the best for Yuki Eiri. But then, where did that put me? The best? Not likely. He was so confusing now. His behaviour was so baffling. I'd never known what he was thinking, but this _dishonesty_ was daunting. I pulled open a dresser drawer, second from the top, and grabbed one of Eiri's shirts. His scent enveloped me as I pulled the shirt around my shoulders. I stared at the dresser a little longer. The third drawer from the top was mine; at least it used to be. Part of me wondered what he kept in that drawer now, while another part didn't want to know. The latter always seemed to win me over, and tonight was no exception. I wandered out into the hallway, the hardwood floor cold beneath my bare feet.

In the dead of night, the silence was near deafening. There was once a time when this was my home. I'd felt I belonged. Or at least as much as Eiri would allow me to feel. It was his home after all, and he'd made it clear, even in the late stages of our relationship that I was an intruder on his tidy life. Too bad for him. The light in his office was still glowing persistently, beckoning me into the room as though it had something important to tell me. His office never changes, no matter how many times we moved his office would always remain the same. We were so different in that sense. To me, setting was irrelevant to my writing, but not to Eiri. Everything had its place in this room. Everything belonged. The only thing he'd ever allowed in the office that didn't belong was me.

I ran my fingers along the length of his desk, sitting down in his chair. How many times had I done this? More than I cared to count, more than I could even remember. I glanced towards the window. I was a little surprised to see that he had put a tall bamboo plant in the corner. I suppose I shouldn't have been, not now, knowing how he felt about that messy business that night. Maybe he hoped to hide the evidence since it all started right there in that corner. Absently, I tapped the space bar on his laptop. The screen sprang to life immediately, which I hadn't expected. My eyes were drawn to the text within the highlighted box. I read the word and then re-read it. And then I waited to feel something. Kitazawa. I hated that word. I hated everything to do with fucking Kitazawa. I should have been enraged to see that Yuki had been working on, or about to work on, a file entitled 'Kitazawa'. I should have felt at least a little betrayed. But, sitting there in the darkness wearing nothing but Eiri's shirt, I felt nothing but the faint coldness of the room itself.

That's not true, exactly. I felt _something_ shifting around uncomfortably inside me, so I got up and left the room before it turned into something tangible. I floated around the apartment like a ghost, trying to keep myself occupied and unthinking. I was thinking about going back to bed and waking Eiri. He'd know how to keep me occupied. But, then I opened up yet another can of dependency with that. No, I could find something to keep me from thinking. TV, maybe. I could watch something – maybe a juicy celebrity expose. I tossed myself face-first into Eiri's microfiber couch, inhaling the familiar scent of the place again. The feeling that had started to root itself in me was very bad. Actually, it was a very good feeling, which was very bad _for_ me. The thing was, Eiri's apartment smelled like, tasted like, felt like...home.

I sat up abruptly and turned on the television. I blinked as the bright picture lit up the dark living room. It took me a moment to register what was happening on the television screen. The sound was rather high, which was pretty unusual for Eiri. I wondered if he'd seen _Sakura Love_. I wondered if he'd heard my song. I doubted it by the way he'd seemed surprised by my blue hair. Besides, this was Yuki Eiri we're talking about. There was no way in hell he would watch _Sakura Love_ even if his long-time lover was on it. As far as I know, Yuki never watched any of my television appearances.

Turning the volume down, I tried to figure out what was happening on the screen. It was a media frenzy. I felt sorry for whoever they were swarming about trying to attack. A grainy, dated photo flashed on the screen. Despite its poor quality, recognition slapped me in the face. _I_ was in that grainy photo and my arm was around Asuki-chan. The date of the photo matched up to first time that I'd ever met her, the night of the first concert of the world tour. I flicked off the television and lay there with my face buried in the familiar smelling couch. The sudden darkness of the room hurt my eyes as much as the brightness had and all I could hear was the heavy pounding of my blood in my ears.

I stood up slowly, the coldness of floor sending a shock through me. My body seemed to buzz with a forced numbness, refusing to acknowledge all the unpleasant things in my life. I followed the same path I had walked for years back into Yuki's bedroom. I stood beside the bed and watched his face. He seemed troubled by something now. It was evident by the way he was laying, his arms spread out beside him at strange angles, his face turned away from me. Had he missed me in bed? That was probably too much to hope for. As I climbed into bed, the Indian silk sheets cool to my skin, I moved his arm gently and then wrapped my body around it.

"Yuki," I whispered into his arm, "Whatever happens now know that I love you. And that I never stopped."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force the tears back into their ducts unsuccessfully.

"Where are you going?" I heard Yuki ask.

My eyes opened and met Eiri's in the darkness. His stare was penetrating and guarded. I wasn't sure what to make of it, or of the fact that he was awake.

"You're awake," I breathed. My shock seemed to have dried my tears instantly.

Eiri blinked at me slowly and then reached across the bed with his free hand to run his fingers down the side of my face.

"I don't sleep well these days."

I smiled wistfully. "You and me both."

Yuki stifled a laugh, smiling gently at me. This was the Eiri that I couldn't comprehend. His gentle smile and open honesty. Or, was it dishonesty? I couldn't tell. I was suspicious of it, afraid to believe in the dream.

"I have a feeling K is going to call soon," I said softly, finally relinquishing my kung-fu grip on Eiri's arm.

Eiri's response was a slight, questioning lift of his eyebrows. I shrugged non-comittally and broke eye contact.

"Media madness?"

I looked up and smiled lightly. It was comforting that Eiri could still read me, at least a little. "Something like that."

"Hmm."

Yuki broke eye contact and stared at the ceiling in silence. I wondered what he was thinking about and if he had heard me earlier. He turned back to me and opened his mouth as though he had something to say. Just then, the shrill tone of my phone echoed through the halls of the apartment. I was halfway across the room before I thought to call back to Yuki.

"Sorry, if I don't answer right away K tends to go a little ballistic."

Eiri nodded but his eyes were telling me that he still had something to say.

I was almost glad to have escaped the room and whatever Eiri had wanted to say. I found my cell phone in the pair of pants we'd left so carelessly in the front hallway.

"Hi, K," I said into the receiver.

"Shuichi! Did I wake you?" His question would have held more merit if he hadn't sounded so pleased by the concept.

"No. You know I don't sleep."

"What? Maybe you should see a doctor."

I sighed. It always irritated me, the way both K and Seguchi pretended not to know every single aspect of my life. I knew that they watched me like hawks, especially now. I had waited so long for either of them to have let their guard down so that I could escape last month, and I was still amazed with that feat.

"What is it, K?"

"We need to be in Kawasaki in four hours."

"What?"

"We need to-"

"Oh, fuck off, K. Why do we have to be in Kawasaki and why the hell are you calling me four hours ahead of time?"

"Shuichi, you wound me!"

"Whatever."

"You have a photoshoot and with the media frenzy outside of Yuki-san's building, we'll need at least three hours to get to Kawasaki."

I growled into the phone. "Seguchi is trying to kill me."

"Oh, no he's not. If he were, you'd already be dead."

The voice that had spoken was not K's, but Eiri's. I spun around and saw him leaning against the wall sleepily, his robe barely tied on. It should be illegal for someone to have such an arsenal of pheromones at their command as Eiri had.

"K, I have to go. I'll be down in an hour."

I flipped the phone shut and stared at Yuki. Why did he have to be so effortlessly sexy?

"So," he drawled lazily, "You have to be in Kawasaki in four hours?"

I stared at him, unable or unwilling to make my tongue work.

"Shuichi?"

I looked away finally, unable to bear that concerned glint in his eye. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"I told you that you didn't, you idiot."

My eyes shot up to see him turn and walk down the hall. That had been my Yuki. Right there. I was barely aware that I had started following him down the hallway. I couldn't stand the sight of his back to me. It wasn't the first time I had felt like this, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Eiri paused suddenly, as though he had forgotten something and I was unable stop quickly enough. I collided with his chest. He caught me with ease and I looked up into his eyes. I was surprised by the look on his face. It was something both fragile and intense. Without a word, he leaned down and kissed me gently. I responded, as I always do, with far too much vigour, ruining my attempted aloofness. Eiri broke the kiss, his face still tragically torn.

"Can't you just," he paused to brush a strand of my hair from my eye, "stay?"

I was speechless. Literally speechless. Yuki Eiri, the absolute love of my life, was asking me to stay. Asking _me_ to stay. Of course I couldn't. In an immediate sense, there was a very good chance that Seguchi-san would try to kill me if I did, and in a less immediate sense, I was too confused to know if this was real or not.

"I can't," I whispered, feeling the unforgiving sting of tears forming behind my eyelids.

Eiri watched me for a moment with an unfathomable expression in his eyes, then suddenly it changed to something familiar. The corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile and determination set in his eyes.

"Eiri."

My voice was a low growl of unconvincing negation. I knew he wouldn't believe it, and I didn't want him to either. He took a step towards me, his intense, bright eyes locked on mine. He wasn't letting me go. Good. I was glad.

"Shuichi."

I closed my eyes in anticipatory anguish at the sound of my name from his lips. I expected to be devoured then, for us to play that same routine of tease and be teased. But instead, Eiri's arm slid around my waist delicately as he traced my lips with his other hand. I opened my eyes, confused by the change in terrain. His eyes were yielding and warm as he gazed down at me.

"You've changed, but in many ways you're still the same."

I wanted to agree with him. To tell him that it was the same with him. But then his expression changed again and the hand at my waist slid down while pulling the material of the shirt up at the same time. He leaned in, pressing his lips against my neck and whispering into my skin,

"I told you I would make sure that you couldn't live without me."

Again, I wanted to agree with him, but all I'd managed was a moan. It wasn't long before he'd destroyed his own shirt in order to get at me and we'd left yet another pile of clothes in the hallway. I'd known that I should have just gotten dressed and escaped when I had the chance, but I hadn't and our hour was up pretty quickly.

As I scrambled to dress myself in last night's borrowed clothes, Yuki leaned lazily against the doorframe, a cigarette dangling from his lips and not a scrap of clothing on his body. I felt my willpower whittling away.

"Have you no shame?" I asked with a smirk.

"None whatsoever."

Parting was strange. I wanted to hug him and kiss him and jump back into old habits, but I wanted to maintain the semblance of composure at the same time. The end result was my standing at the end of the hallway and staring at him.

"Well, I have to go," I said, spinning on my heel and ready to make a hasty retreat before I changed my mind and stayed here for the rest of the day.

"Shu?"

"Yes?" I glanced at Eiri over my shoulder.

"When will I see you again?"

I turned to face him again and drew in a long breath. "I don't know."

I fought the urge to add a million inane statements to the end of it. Eiri nodded and took a drag of his cigarette.

"Well," he said after a moment, "I hope to see you sooner rather than later."

My heart flipped nervously in my chest and my stomach turned. I wasn't sure if I could trust the truth behind it, but I wanted to so desperately. I held back the smile that was tugging viciously at the corners of my mouth.

"We'll see," I said flippantly.

I turned and walked out of his apartment, only remembering to breathe as I stepped into the elevator. Yuki wanted to see me. But, more importantly, I had stood my ground. I let the smile I had been holding in finally escape as I beamed at my reflection. I bit my bottom lip as I stared at the starry-eyed, blue haired boy inside the shiny elevator door. His lips were bruised, his face was optimistic, and he looked like he was bursting with energy. I almost recalled being that boy. I almost felt like me again.

I strode out of the elevator catching sight of K's Hummer waiting for me, surrounded by media. Though the bulbs were flashing madly and normally, at four in the morning, I would have been annoyed. Today, I barely noticed. I strode out amongst them and the questions floated around me like insignificant insects. Questions about Asuki, questions about Sakuma-san, and questions about Yuki. There was only one question I bothered to answer and not even verbally at that, but with that brilliant smile that had bubbled up from my toes and filled my entire being.

"Are you and Yuki-san together again?"

Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I felt fucking fantastic and I wanted the whole world to know it. I crawled into the Hummer before the next round of questioning started. I was still smiling with unfettered happiness when K dumped the pile of tabloids onto my lap. My smile died as I glanced down at them. The next few days, possibly even weeks, were not going to be pretty from a public relations standpoint, but it was really difficult to care as I glanced up at Yuki's window, the yellow glow of his office radiating into the night.


	7. I Won't Be Left

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies. Pulp lyrics are clearly labeled as such and obviously belong to Pulp and their recording studio, etc etc.  
_**

_AN: This chapter was hell on a stick to write. It's sectioned into three separate time periods, which is not something I like to do in one chapter, but I needed to get to one place by the end of it...so here we are. Thank you to my lovely beta, who has saved me from being a fragmented, comma-less freak throughout this chapter. I also must apologize for enraging her with the content of this chapter. Love love. Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, I appreciate your support and kind words. :)  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_I won't mistake you for problems with me  
And I won't let my moods ruin this you'll see  
I won't take everything good and move it away  
I won't be left dancing along to songs from the past_

_Would you stay home and keep our memories warm with me?  
Would you give all your love for a run at the past with me?_

_I know you're sad even though you say that you're not  
I know you're scared even though you say that you're not_

_  
I won't get mad when you say things are getting too hard  
I won't make all of your love so scared to come through our yard  
I won't scream in my head and let it isolate me  
I won't be left dancing alone to songs from the past_

_ ~I Won't Be Left, Tegan and Sara_

Eiri_  
_

I stood in the doorway long after Shuichi had left, long after my cigarette had burned down to my fingers, or my skin had become cold to the touch. There was something of him that lingered in the air and I was loathed to disturb it by moving. Eventually, when I was cold enough, I turned back into the bedroom. The room was redolent in the ever-enduring scent of spent semen and wasted body heat; in other words, of sex. Somehow, it made me depressed, made me long for Shuichi's presence. I sat on the bed gingerly, still sore from last night's adventures on the hardwood floor, and still loathing to disturb anything in the very air of the apartment.

I wasn't sure how long it would be until I saw him again and I wanted to cling to whatever he'd left in his wake. It was funny, mildly amusing, and overtly ironic that it hadn't really been that long ago that I would have revelled in the silence of his absence. But those times were long gone and so was all the carefree noise that used to surround him. It'd been replaced with a solemn silence and every word uttered had intense meaning. Like when he'd told me he loved me and always had.

I wasn't meant to hear it – he'd been confessing to the dark, but I had heard it. It was cowardly for Shuichi, to feel comfortable telling me these things only when I was asleep. A laugh rolled through me, disturbing the quiet of the room. Cowardly for him? Well, I was only able to tell him that I loved him when I thought he was dead. Who's the coward now? Sighing only after the laughter had died on my lips, I reached down to the floor, grabbed the first pair of pants I could find and pulled them on lazily. I should shower, but a lethargic part of me refused. A ridiculous, obsessive part of me wasn't ready to wash Shuichi off either, but I decided not to dwell on that. Standing up, I reached for a cigarette, but my hand stalled on the pack. I should quit. Really, I should quit a lot of my nasty habits. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it anyway.

I shook my head and moved into the hallway, feeling the emptiness of the place acutely. I stepped on something hard and lifted my foot in aggravation, plucking a button from it. I stared at what was left of my shirt lying on the ground in front of me. I bit my lip as I remembered that first whimper and gasp that had escaped Shuichi's lips as I'd pressed my own against his neck. I puffed at my cigarette, as though it were my lifeline, and leaned over to scoop up the shirt. I pressed the remnants of my crisp linen shirt to my face and inhaled deeply. He lingered on it, ever so slightly, above all the other familiar scents that clung to it. Without thinking, I pulled the shirt on and surrounded myself in him further as I continued down the hall.

There was a part of me that wondered what exactly had spooked him into his impromptu confession, especially after denying that he loved me earlier in the day. Which Shuichi was telling the truth; the angry, conscious one, or the sullen, night time whisperer? I didn't know. I had my suspicions, but I didn't know for sure. I idly made my way to the living room and flipped on the television.

_"-Yuki Eiri. Did we not just see him exit the building looking extremely happy?"_

_"Well Satori-san, we all know how well Shindou-kun handles the media now. If this were, two or three years ago I might agree with you. Now? Who knows?"_

_"Yuji-san, please. Let's look at that image again."_

A photo of Shuichi leaving my building just a half hour ago flashed on the screen and my breath caught in my throat. I'd heard this argument before, this "are they, aren't they" squabble about Shuichi and me. It was a full two years before I decided to open my trap on national television about us, so this wasn't unfamiliar territory. But, the look on Shuichi's face caused my tepid heart to pound painfully in my chest. I hadn't seen that smile, that free, loose, _genuine_ smile, on his face in over a year.

The reporters started their inane argument again, most of which I filtered out of my head as I stared at that smile and felt my own face stretch into a grin. Shuichi had smiled and he just might have smiled for me.

_"-shiro Asuki, though. Clear as day, that is one Shindou Shuichi with his arm around her. She couldn't have been out of highschool then. It will be interesting to see what ramifications this will have on his pristine post-Yuki Eiri image."_

_"Not that it matters anymore, really, Yuji-san. If Shindou-kun is in fact back together with Yuki Eiri there will be a whole other type of public relations situation. Bad Luck has a lot of fans all over the world, the majority of which have been gained while Shindou-kun was a free man, so to speak. His being 'taken' _and_ once again in a homosexual relationship may be viewed unkindly in some parts of the world, if not in most parts of Japan."_

_"I doubt Bad Luck will lose fans over this. I doubt it strongly. If anything, Shindou-kun's and Yuki-sensei's relationship had been a major selling point back when Bad Luck was merely going national. No, I think this could bring about a whole new interesting PR perspective. I'll be watching Seguchi Tohma's response to this with interest – hot on the heels of Shindou-kun's disappearance, he returns to Japan with Yuki Eiri in tow? Bring in the budding star of NG who was involved with Shindou while she was still in highschool and we have a scandal worth watching!"_

I flicked off the television and scowled at the blank screen. So, that's what his sweet nothings had been about. Obviously, he felt guilty about something and clearly it had to do with this Asuki creature. My frown deepened. But what was so awful that, given my sordid past, he felt it was worth feeling guilty over? Sure, the media would be all over both of us, and _that_ girl. If they really thought Seguchi would be worried over this, they had another thing coming. Any publicity is good publicity. He could launch her band's career in a week using Shuichi as the sounding board, and using whatever was going on between Shuichi and me, he could overshadow this whole disappearance issue. Although, I knew he wouldn't do the latter since he was dead set on tormenting both of us.

The dissonant buzzing began in my head again and I rubbed my temple sloppily. I needed to do something that required not thinking about Shuichi's strange behaviour, past hijinks and who he did said hijinks with. Without knowing where I was going, I trudged down the hallway and into my office.

The room gave me immense comfort. Everything was exactly where it should be. Not a thing out of place. Wherever I moved, this room remained constant. The only thing it was missing was Shuichi sitting in the corner, staring at me, distracting me, yammering on about something. I glanced at the bamboo plant I had hastily purchased and shoved in that corner once I'd pushed him out of my life. I wanted to throw it out the window, as I always did. It didn't belong, but it took up space. His space. I wondered if he would ever sit in that corner again and regale me with the ridiculous goings-on of Studio Three again. Hiro did this; Fujisaki's such a prick; Seguchi came in and stared at me; K shot the sound system; and so on and so forth. Sadly, I missed that idiotic banter.

But everything changed that night. Everything changed when I made the worst mistake of my life. Right there, in that corner. I stubbed out what was left of my cigarette in the ashtray on my desk before settling in my chair. I couldn't take my eyes off the bamboo tree. It sort of swayed as the heat came on and taunted me from its corner. I tapped the touchpad on my laptop and the screen sprang to life. The Kitazawa file was still highlighted. It was a dead project. It was the piece that killed my career. It was a failed attempt at understanding Shuichi. Now even more so, since I couldn't even fathom what had gone on in his head last night. I parted from him after he declared his lack of love for me, and then five hours later we're on the floor in the hallway of my apartment. Totally unfathomable.

It had been a mistake to attempt to understand Shuichi while I'd been missing him. Had I expected it to make me feel better? To maybe inject him into my life a little more while he was on tour? I could have just called him more often. I could have flown out with him. I could have taken my laptop and written while he was in concert. But, no, I had my pride to contend with and in the end it had lost me the one person I truly loved. Only now did I understand that what I'd felt, and still feel, for Kitazawa was not love. Not the way I love Shuichi. It was more of a love of the idea of Kitazawa. The way he'd treated me before that awful day; the way his eyes had watched me; the way he'd cater to my silly notions. Only now I could recognize how much that could torment a man. Only now could I recognize that Shuichi meant more to me than Kitazawa ever had. It wasn't an insult to his memory to admit this – it was simply the truth. Even if a relationship between Kitazawa and I had come to fruition, I am confident that Shuichi would have barrelled into my life anyway. And Shuichi would have won me over.

It's something in his eyes. Something in the way he moves. In the way he writes. In the way the music comes to him and overpowers him, devours him. To think that those same phrases were in those early lyrics of his. To think that I mocked them. It's taken me this long to understand them. Shuichi overpowers me. Devours me whole without even realizing it. For all his prior insecurity in our relationship, I have always been the one at a disadvantage. Always, since day one. I hovered the mouse over the Kitazawa file and then did something as unfathomable as Shuichi's behaviour. I right-clicked, scrolled down to delete, and left-clicked. Just like that, the file was gone. Erased from memory. Over. Finished. I opened a new document and prepared to do something that I would have considered absolutely mad five years ago. Shu would not be confined to paper, but _I_ was a totally different story.

* * *

It had been three days since I had started working on the fictional, yet nearly autobiographical tale of my life. Three sixteen hour work days and I had only just touched Seguchi, or Fukumitsu as his fictional counterpart was called, entering my life. At least I think it was only three. Anyway, on the supposed third day, there was a knock on my door that so disrupted my train of thought that I wrenched the door open and prepared to launch an assault on whoever was on the other side. I was most shocked to see Mizuki.

Her wide, infectiously sunny smile filled my line of sight. Any sane man would have been pleased by the sight of an attractive, intelligent woman on their doorstep, but I was not a sane man. The first thought that came to mind was: what does she want?

"Hello Eiri-san. Long time, no see," she said brightly, as she pushed her way inside my apartment in that unassuming way of hers.

I narrowed my eyes at her and closed the door behind her. "What do you want?"

And suddenly the sunny smile was replaced with the smug half-grin I knew so well. "Well, Eiri, it has nearly been a year."

"So?"

"So, the publishing house was giving you a one-year personal wellness break."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed audibly as I made my way to the kitchen. Automatically, the kettle was in my hand and the familiar roll of water through the faucet reached my ears. Making tea was a very nasty habit; one that Mizuki specifically brought out in me. It was almost as automatic as handing Shuichi coffee whenever he was around.

"Thank you, Eiri. It's nice to see some things never change."

I snorted at her and sat down. "So what do you want?"

"A novel."

"I haven't any that are finished."

Mizuki pursed her lips and sipped her tea slowly. "I'm glad to see that you and Shindou-san are making up."

I scowled at her and sipped my tea. It was like mental chess, sitting here with her. "I wonder if that's true."

The tiniest of smiles began to tug at the corners of her mouth. "I wonder," she repeated, "Do you intend on breaking your contract with the publishing house?"

I had to laugh at her. It was so like Mizuki to pepper me up and distract me with small talk about Shuichi before pulling out the big guns. I took a series of long, drawn out sips of my tea. Sure, I was inspired to write again, but did I really want to sell this novel? The story of my life? Not to mention, I had no intention of feminizing Shuichi in this work of fiction. Would a homosexual love story sell in Japan? Would it sell anywhere? Who knows?

"No."

Instantly, that sunny smile was back on her pretty face. She held out her hand expectantly. I stared at it and repeated myself.

"I don't have it finished."

"Obviously not, Eiri. Look at you. You're deep within the process, but I need proof to show the agents."

I stared at the tea leaves dancing carelessly in what little liquid was left in my cup. "Not this one, Mizuki."

A frown seemed to pull down her entire face in an instant. She sighed and continued to frown at me. I deliberately stretched my face into my most charming of smiles.

"Don't you trust me?"

"Not when you don't trust me."

Kill joy. My smile dropped rapidly. "This one is special, Mizuki. It's not ready. What will it take for them to accept my word?"

Her frown disappeared and was replaced with a razor sharp grin. "Public declaration."

"What?"

"Go on television and publicly announce to all of Japan that you are officially coming out of retirement. I guarantee they'll hold on to your contract for however long this special story of yours takes."

"Go on television. Huh."

I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Mizuki's eyes focussed on the orange embers at the end of it.

"You know, Eiri, that's the first cigarette you've had since I've been here."

"So?"

"Are you trying to quit?"

I felt my face pull into an involuntary scowl. "Fine, I'll do it. Set it up."

Mizuki's smile grew slowly across her face and I shivered as a result. "It's already done Eiri. Be at the NHK studio for three today. I'll show myself out."

Well, at least she's succinct.

* * *

There was a scent that clung in the air and overwhelmed me with comfort. It was a non-descript scent, the sort of thing that's only characterized by memories. Mild and pleasant, but nothing that stood out – soap and hair styling products, laundry detergent and dryer sheets. It was Shuichi, which explained the weight on my hips. This was fine considering I was never truly averse to being pressed into a soft mattress by way of Shuichi straddling my hips.

"Shu-" I started, but he silenced me by pressing his finger against my lips.

When I looked at him, gleaming in the sunlight, he was a strange hybrid of the Shuichi I knew five years ago, all brightly coloured hair and purple contacts, and the Shuichi I now know. His expression was dark and teasing – I liked it and yet, I feared it. He leaned in and caught my bottom lip, sucking it tentatively before pulling on it gently with his teeth. I was about to protest, about to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but he cut me off again.

"I love you, Yuki. But you understand how these things are."

I nodded against my will. What the fuck was he talking about? And why the fuck was I agreeing?

Shuichi smiled at me gently and I found myself forgetting all of my questions. Especially when he started rocking his hips against mine.

"Yuki, this is the way things are. Nothing will ever change. It can't," he whispered as he increased the pace, the headboard knocking against the wall insistently.

Suddenly, the insistent knocking of the headboard became more measured and even. I looked up at Shuichi, his hair now extremely short and blue, that earring glinting with his movements, and his eyes black as pitch. He bit his lip and groaned, collapsing over my chest and sighing contentedly in my ear.

"Wake up, Yuki. Someone is at the door."

My eyes shot open and realized that I was looking across my desk. I sat up abruptly, groggily aware that something was stuck to my face. I swatted my cheek clumsily, sending the thing clattering across the floor of my office. I blinked several times before realizing that the thing that I'd flung across the room was a key from my laptop keyboard. There was a loud rap at the door so I struggled to my feet, stopping to pick up the key from the floor before making my way to the door. Who the hell was it now? Whoever it was, they would pay dearly for interrupting a dream like that. Hell, if it was Shuichi, I'd make damn sure he'd pay. My mind wandered to exactly how I would make him pay and I felt a grin tug at the tight muscles of my face. I pulled open the door and my grin faded fast. So did my hard-on.

"Oh, it's you."

I turned away from the door, wandering back to my office to replace the key.

"It's good to see you, too, Eiri-san."

Seguchi really was a pain in the ass. He followed me to my office, as I had expected.

"What do you want?" I grumbled as I tried to press the key back into place, resulting in a series of 'n's stretching across the electronic page. "Fuck."

"Well, no. That's not why I'm here," Seguchi said brightly, dropping a box on my desk.

At least he always brought me cake when he came to harass me. I opened the box and shoved a cake in my mouth, letting the sweetness of strawberries roll over my tongue and explode in my mouth. Yum. Grabbing the box, I headed towards the kitchen knowing that Seguchi would follow me relentlessly no matter where I went.

"This place looks better than the last time I was here," Seguchi remarked as he meandered through the living room towards the window.

I grunted in reply. I knew what he meant, of course. The last time he'd been here, I'd been so consumed by my fanatical obsession with Shindou Shuichi that the place had literally been littered with Bad Luck paraphernalia. I wanted to be as close as I could to Shuichi and if photos, CDs and interviews were the only way I could do it, then I did it. That is, until Seguchi told me that he'd gone missing. That had changed everything; slowly, but surely. Then I'd felt the only way to be close to Shuichi was to die.

I leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette, placing it lightly between my lips and scrounged around in my pocket for a lighter. There wasn't a lighter in my pocket.

"What the fuck?" I mumbled and turned into the kitchen, pulling open drawers in search of one.

"When's the last time you had a cigarette, Eiri?"

I looked up from my frantic search to see Seguchi's calculating, unscrupulous eyes focussed on me. I swallowed, suddenly I felt like I was being tested. I stood up straight and pulled the unlit cigarette out of my mouth.

"I don't know. A few hours ago?"

Seguchi raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He walked into the kitchen and rested his hand on the counter, his narrowed eyes still upon me.

"When's the last time you took a bath?"

I narrowed my eyes at him and scowled. "When's the last time you fucked yourself?"

Seguchi let out a laugh, light and feathery and shockingly genuine. "I'm glad to see you have your spirit back."

I rolled my eyes and pushed past him into the living room, back in hot pursuit of my lighter. If ever I needed a smoke, it was when Seguchi was watching me so closely.

"What do you want Seguchi?"

"Can't I check in on my brother-in-law?"

"Not without some nefarious reason, I'm sure."

"Fine," Tohma replied softly.

I turned at the abrupt change in his tone. His expression was one of cool determination and I recognized it. Something had happened. Now it was a matter of finding out just what that something was. My heart pounded in my chest as I recalled the last time he'd been in my apartment.

"It's Shuichi, isn't it? What happened?"

Seguchi finally broke eye contact. Fuck. I was right.

"Eiri, when was the last time you spoke with him?"

I shrugged as I racked my brain. It was three days before Mizuki had come over and that had been, what? Two or three days ago? I turned from him again as I spotted my lighter on the end table, which begged the question: when was the last time I'd been sitting on the couch? I turned back to Seguchi, attempting to keep my cool.

"Maybe three or four days ago."

His eyebrows moved up almost imperceptibly as he moved to close the distance between us. I raised my lighter to light my cigarette nervously, afraid of what he was about to say.

"When was the last time you saw him?" He asked again.

"Fuck, Seguchi," I hissed, pulling the still unlit cigarette out of my mouth again and throwing the lighter on the couch. Fucking thing was empty. "I don't know, alright?"

"Think."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "It was the night he was on _Sakura Love_."

"Eiri," his tone made me turn back to him again. "_Sakura Love_ aired fifteen days ago."

I stared at him, half expecting him to crack a smile and tell me he'd been fucking with me. I hadn't seen Shuichi in two weeks? How was that even possible? He hadn't even called. Not once. To be fair, I hadn't called him either. This had never happened before. Shuichi had always been there while I was in a writing madness, forcing me to eat, forcing me to bathe, and forcing me to fuck. Occasionally, he'd even convinced me to sleep. But this time? He hadn't even called me.

"Well, I've been writing. And I assume he's been busy," I replied in a forced whisper.

Seguchi laughed again. A mirthless laugh. "He has been busy."

I frowned at him.

"Eiri, I'd only come by to deliver something to add to your collection."

He handed me a glossy, heavy magazine. "Hot off the presses, not even on the stands yet."

I glanced down at the magazine. _CD Data_, and it was quite literally hot off the presses, the glossy pages warm against my skin. And right there on the cover was Shuichi, glaring back at me with his bloody stupid, purple contacts, flanked by that moron, Sakuma, and that fake, mixed girl with the green eyes and idiotic name. Bold text stretched across the front of the magazine: NG announces exclusive Generations concert.

"What the fuck is the Generations concert?"

Seguchi smiled at me placidly and shrugged gently. "A brilliant opportunity to divert attention away from Shuichi's infamous disappearance."

"And a way to make that girl's band famous. Not to mention, an excuse to make money," I added wryly. I paused and glanced at Tohma, considering the words that were about to come out of my mouth carefully.

"Who is she?" Fuck. I hadn't meant it to be so blunt.

"Who?" Tohma asked with faux innocence.

I glared at him.

"Oshiro-san? Just a talented girl who came to NG through all the right channels," he paused to glance at the picture, "I had no idea."

I knew what he meant. He'd no idea about Shuichi and her. It was hard to believe, but it was also hard to believe that Shuichi would be able to disappear for a month without Seguchi's goon squad catching up to him first. I felt a well of irrational anger towards Seguchi then. He'd always been so deliberately careless with Shuichi's welfare.

"Well, on that note," Seguchi said, smiling widely after noticing my glare, "I'll be going."

I followed him to the door.

"Oh, Eiri?"

"What?"

"If you intend on stealing Shindou-san's heart back, you might want to bathe first."

He smiled at me before pulling the door shut. What the fuck had he meant by that? Stealing Shu's heart back? From whom? The fucking brat will have survived a mere fifteen days without me, I'm sure.

I tossed the magazine onto the table and went into my office to search for a lighter again. I nearly pulled apart my computer desk before I found one that still had fluid in it. Finally, I lit my cigarette and inhaled the sweet cloud of nicotine. Shuichi. Without thinking, I stood up and went back out into the kitchen, swiping the magazine from the table. I still couldn't bring myself to open it as I made my way back to my office once again.

Seguchi never does anything without a reason. There was a reason that he saw fit to make me aware of the time that Shuichi and I had been apart. There was a reason behind his bringing the magazine over. But what was it? I looked at the photo on the cover of the magazine again. All three morons had smug, cocky expressions on their faces, but I suppose that is the price of being world famous. Well, not that little Asuki brat. She wasn't famous at all.

That's when it struck me like a baseball bat to the head. Asuki was the reason Tohma brought over the magazine. I slid my hand down the spine of the shiny magazine, skirting the bottom of the pages with my thumb and finally fingering the corner of the cover. I was poised and ready to open the magazine when a nagging voice spoke up in my mind, it sounded suspiciously like Shuichi. _Yuki, whatever happens now know that I love you and that I never stopped. _I pulled my hand from the magazine as though it was on fire and my hands fell immediately upon my keyboard and began typing rapidly. Searching the internet for celebrity gossip was hardly a healthy habit, especially when you're searching for information on your supposed lover, but I wouldn't let that stop me. Search: "Shindou + Shuichi + news". Results: 1786 articles from the last week alone.

The articles were scattered in relevance: some speculation about us, about where he'd been, about who he'd been with, and about _that_ girl. All of it was nonsense. At least I had thought so, anyway, until I stumbled across an article boasting that grainy security photo of Shuichi and Asuki from last year. The article was more of a photo gallery of images than anything textual, starting with that one photo followed by a couple of other pictures of Shuichi with various people throughout that year. They were wrong of course. Shuichi was never in a relationship with any of these people. Any idiot who knew Shuichi would see that his body language was all wrong for all of these people. My eyes focussed on the grainy photo again, particularly on the fuzzy curl of his fingers on her shoulder. Well, _most_ of these people.

The gallery went on to show more current pictures of Shu and me leaving the airport, going to the store, and finally heading to NG studios. The rest of the photos made my heart come to a painful, slow stop. The rest of the photos were recent, very recent. The rest of the photos were obviously what Shu had been doing over the past two weeks. Maybe I should have said _who_ he'd been doing. My brain hummed with a foul dissonance and I had the distinct impression of the ground falling out from under me.

I pushed the lid down on my laptop and stared at the smooth plastic surface, willing my noisy mind to silence. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions here. I mean, he'd told me he loved me. Of course, that could be meaningless seeing as he did so right after he'd affirmed that nothing was certain with his love anymore. Shit. And he hadn't called. Not once. He hadn't stopped by. Nor mentioned me. Nor confirmed or denied that we were together. Were we together? Fuck, fuck, fuck! My eyes moved to the magazine lying there so unpretentiously on my desk. I should have just thrown it in the garbage, but I didn't. Instead I opened the magazine and flipped to the article about this fucking Generations concert. And there I found a photo spread. I knew better than to take photo spreads seriously – most photographers had a penchant for dressing Shu up like whore and parading him around. However, most photographers weren't known for capturing shots of Shuichi like this.

Each picture was more infuriating – that fucker Sakuma with his hands all over Shu, ridiculous orgy-like photos of the three of them, but the picture that was by far the most enraging was simple, clean even. And normally, that sort of garbage wouldn't bother me, but like I said earlier, any moron with even an inkling of Shuichi's behaviour would notice his body language. In the picture, Shuichi was leaning all his weight on one arm against a wall, his other hand was resting gently on the cheek of Oshiro Asuki. And his mouth was most upsetting. His lips, perfect little rose petals, were pressed against hers. The real problem: this was _genuine_.

I reminded myself that breathing was an essential action to live, even if I wasn't keen on doing either at the moment. I tried to clear my head, but that lamentable buzzing of mad thoughts had started again. If I chose to simply sit there, I would have gone mad. There was only one thing to do at this point, and that was to go see Shuichi. If I saw him, I'd know one way or another and regardless of the outcome, I would happily go mad. Someone would have to be insane to be in love with that little monster and yet I was absolutely sure I would go off my rocker if I were to lose him again.

Time pressed on in a blur. It was hard to think with all the damnable buzzing in my brain, but somehow I managed to shower, get dressed, drive to Shuichi's, and take the elevator up to his apartment. And that's where I was, standing outside his door with a crumpled, glossy magazine in my hand, cacophonous clamouring within my brain, and the sound of Shuichi singing in my ears. It was that sound, that familiar sound that managed to calm me enough not to tear his door down. He sounded so pleased. He sounded like he had back when life had been normal through its abnormality. I felt my jaw clench tightly as my brain reminded me that there was a very good chance that I was not the source of his newfound cheerfulness. I hated that idea. I hated it so much that I pounded on his door so hard that my hand went numb with pain.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Shuichi's muffled voice came through the thick wood of the door.

I heard the sound of the lock being opened and he pulled the door open. His hair was longer than when I'd last seen him, and mercifully back to black in colour. There was a wide, idiotic smile on his face that I knew so well. So well, in fact, that it pained my heart to see it.

"Geez, you didn't-"

His eyes, thankfully their native chocolate brown, widened as they focussed in on me and the smile slid from his face.

"Y-Yuki."


	8. Textbook

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies. Pulp lyrics are clearly labeled as such and obviously belong to Pulp and their recording studio, etc etc.  
_**

_AN: I'm totally disappointed with the way this turned out. I know some people would ask 'well, why post it then?' - because, it's necessary for the movement of the plot! I wanted more to happen in this chapter, but then I realized the things I wanted to happen will be more effective in Eiri's chapter...and I babbled on and on for pages, so if I'd kept going it would have been three million pages long. Like my AN, for example. Har har har. Anyway, here you go. Thanks to coffee-house-girl, as per usual she kept this readable. :D  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_Falling over backwards for you  
Falling over everybody else  
I put myself in that position  
Every time I have the chance_

_I know it's not my business to be  
Digging up these things I shouldn't know  
Twenty years of bad decisions  
Haven't taught me much at all_

_Separate events you're making  
Everyone pretend it's not your fault  
And all of this offence you're taking  
Doesn't really bother me at all_

_Twist my arm 'cause that's the way you think you're gonna work this whole thing out  
You know you own my body, but don't think that you control my mouth_

_Having every question answered isn't gonna help at all.  
Having every question answered  
Doesn't help_

_When you're not supposed to know  
You're not supposed to know  
You're not supposed to know  
Anything_

_Another textbook situation  
Everything I think I know I've read  
What's the point of medication?  
Only makes me wish that I were dead_

_It's pretty clear the truth, I mean  
It's written here on every single page  
I'm smitten, but not stupid  
I can read it all over your face  
~Textbook, We Are Scientists_

Shuichi

It had been two weeks since I'd last seen Eiri's face in the flesh and I'd started to grow used to his absence. I found that it wasn't really that difficult this time around, surrounded by friends who knew something wasn't right, to move forward without him. I'd floated around in a lie long enough and I hadn't quite let myself believe that anything that had happened since I took off to Sakuma-san's had, well, actually happened. So, it was easy to make believe that Eiri's kindness had been a dream. In fact, I found it more plausible to believe it had been a dream. You can't hurt so much if your dreams don't come true, but if the truth becomes the dream? That hurts. That hurts a lot because you start to dread waking up.

But, when I opened the door, expecting anyone but Yuki Eiri, I found myself tongue-tied and shocked to discover him standing there, looking incredibly pissed off and more than a little sleep deprived. I knew what he was like when he was writing and I can imagine that he probably didn't even realize that it had been two weeks since we were last together.

"Yuki," I whispered.

He smiled a bitter and calculated half-smile. "You were expecting someone else?"

The sound of his voice, something that had once almost made me come upon hearing it, snapped something inside of me. I felt the shock fade from my face and heard an exasperated sigh escape my lips. Nothing ever changed with him. I turned my back on him, as he had done so many times to me, and headed toward my kitchen. I _had_ been expecting someone else, as a matter of fact, but that was none of Yuki's business.

I heard the door close behind him as I began to fill the kettle. If I kept busy enough, I wouldn't end up in a naked heap with him somewhere in my apartment. Sex was the foundation on which our relationship was built, but it was a weak material. I was constantly attempting to drive in some supporting rods of emotional connection, but Eiri was so fucking stubborn that I'd just about given up. Let him drive his own in for once.

"Shuichi."

His breath was moist against the back of my neck, pushing past my hair to the sensitive skin beneath. I hadn't anticipated him standing so close behind me and stiffened in response. I drew in a long, even breath before I attempted to speak. As I set the kettle down on the counter beside me, I prayed that my voice wouldn't give me away.

"How's the book coming?"

Apparently, this had been the wrong thing to ask as he slammed his hands down on either side of the counter, his arms barring my exit.

"Cut the bullshit, Shu," he hissed into the back of my head.

I would have been afraid if not for the fact that I heard and felt him inhale deeply, his face close to my hair. Feeling slightly in control and knowing that Eiri was having as much trouble being in close proximity to me as I was to him; I turned around to face him. His eyes were wild, enraged. I should have expected the normal cappuccino brown to have swirled into something more reminiscent of boiling butterscotch, but for some reason I hadn't and it shocked me. Eiri was upset. Really upset. And it had something to do with me, but what? The fact that I hadn't called? But that seemed impossible. He used to be glad when I didn't call, or better yet, when I wasn't around to interrupt his process. Part of me wanted to reach out to him, touch his face and reassure him; while, another part reminded me that I was through apologizing just to ease his insecurities. That wouldn't help either of us.

"What are you talking about?" I asked quietly, attempting not to incite his wrath any further.

"This," he growled, pushing a magazine into my face.

I reached up and grabbed the book, pushing it away from my face to bring into focus the image that was so tormenting him. I felt him pull back away from me and I was both relieved and disappointed at the loss of his closeness. The picture was from the photo shoot I had done the day I had last seen Eiri. I had left Eiri's apartment that day feeling like nothing could stop me, only to discover that the world was on to my secret little affair with Asuki-chan and that Seguchi-san was already playing public relations games with this information. K and I had arrived at the location for the shoot and had been met by Asuki-chan and Sakuma-san.

Some of the pictures had been racier than we were used to here in Japan, but the photographer had been American. These things were to be expected. But, the picture that had Eiri in an emotional hurricane had admittedly been my fault. Naturally, when I looked at the image now, it could be taken completely out of context, especially by my possessive ex-yet-possibly-current boyfriend. But, as he had told me so many years ago, a kiss was just a kiss, meaningless. Funny that he should find so much meaning in this one now.

I looked up at Eiri, who was leaning against the opposite counter, looking murderously miserable. I shrugged and tossed the magazine behind me on the counter noting, for the first time, what magazine it was and the fact that it wasn't even on the shelves yet. Seguchi must have set this up.

"Who gave that to you?"

"Does it fucking matter?"

"Seguchi Tohma." It wasn't a question. I knew the answer. The way Eiri averted his eyes was confirmation enough.

"Why did he give it to you?" I asked. There was something strange going on here. There always was when Seguchi bothered to get involved. Was this sabotage or an attempt at helping us get back together? Eiri wouldn't answer me.

I shook my head and pushed off the counter, setting the kettle on a burner and flipping it on. I moved through the kitchen like a phantom, simply floating about and going through the motions, sliding past Yuki and sneaking out into the hallway. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Eiri's fingers closed around my wrist, much like they had two weeks ago at NG – possessively, almost violently.

"Hey, where are you going?"

I sighed again, looking into his tortured eyes. "It's just a photo, Eiri."

That hadn't helped anything. His face collapsed a little more as he dropped my wrist. "Is it?"

I struggled to remain calm in the face of Yuki Eiri, but I couldn't ignore the angry pounding of blood against my ear drums for long. My heart had sped up, my breathing had increased. Everything with Yuki had to be a contradiction, a fucked up, convoluted mess. I was angry with him and yet I missed him hideously. I hated him, but I loved him so damn much. I wanted to scream at him, but I knew that my silence was more powerful. I had a million things to say to him, but I couldn't manage even the simplest of sentences.

The thing about that photo was that I'd realized, right at the moment that the picture was snapped, how much Asuki-chan really meant to me. It was Asuki who had pulled me from my darkest place. It was Asuki who had re-inspired me to run, get the fuck out of Japan and live a little. And, right then, when I had leaned in to kiss her, the camera had clicked and it was all wrong. I knew what Yuki thought about that picture. I could tell by his defensive, wounded state. But, it wouldn't last long; he'd hide behind his rage soon enough, it's the only way he knows how to live. But he was wrong this time. He was so wrong.

"Yes."

My voice surprised me in its anger, escaping as an airy hiss. Judging by Eiri's expression, he was surprised by it as well. He ran a hand through his hair, an action that I'd honestly never seen him do before. Generally, when he was stressed to the point of anxiety, he would pull out a smoke. I found it hard to believe that he'd remember about my smoke-free building. Come to think of it, when he'd been standing close to me, I hadn't smelled any smoke on him. Had he quit smoking? No way. Not possible.

He stared at me, his eyes still holding me at a guarded distance, and chewed on his thumbnail. I glared back at him even though we were accomplishing nothing at this point. We carried on like this for what seemed like an eternity until I'd had enough. I broke eye contact and shook my head, ready to walk away.

"Do you love her?"

My eyes snapped up to his face at the sound of his voice. It sounded as though his vocal chords had been dragged through gravel and then covered in snot, or something. He sounded distinctly not like Yuki Eiri.

"What?"

He took a step toward me, his eyes burning gold with that rising, defensive rage. "Do you love that..._Asuki_?"

He spat her name out with such venom that I was shocked into silence. He hadn't even met her except for that brief stare down in the studio and yet he harboured such hatred for her. Even though I knew I should fear the rage behind his eyes, even though I knew just what Yuki Eiri was capable of when he was enraged, I found the golden storm in his eyes so captivating. Like a moth to the flame, never once thinking about its welfare, only of the shining prize at the end, I was drawn to Eiri. I forced myself to look away if only to keep my sanity.

Before I even realized it Yuki was upon me, pushing me backwards into the wall. His hands were gripping the front of my shirt. I raised my eyes to his slowly, afraid of what emotion I would find written on his face, terrified of how I would react to it. Eiri was a man on the edge and I reeled with the discovery that _I _had pushed him there this time. Not Kitazawa Yuki, who haunted him daily, but Shindou Shuichi.

"Do you love her?" he repeated, his voice a harsh whisper.

The tears threatening at the corners of his eyes made my emotions erupt inside me, pulling me in every direction. I blinked back my own tears.

"I love a lot of people," I managed to whisper.

Yuki's grip on my shirt loosened, but he didn't move. He stood still for a moment before shaking his head slowly, narrowing his eyes at me.

"No," he said, simply, "Not like this."

When Eiri is desperate to have me, and I mean that in the most spiritual of senses, he often assaulted me with kisses that were so violent they would near abuse to anyone else, but not to me. When Yuki kisses me that fiercely, I know it's because he can't say what he needs to say. I know it's because he loves me and he can't stand the thought of losing me. I know this and I always respond with an equal violence because I, too, cannot say it enough. And I, too, cannot stand the thought of losing him. It's worse now, I can acknowledge this as my head slammed into the wall behind me and my fingernails scraped across his neck, because we both knew what it was like to be without. We both knew the emptiness; horrible, black emptiness that goes with being apart. And even though I would have loved to simply focus on sucking on the tongue he'd pushed into my mouth, I couldn't forget the anger welled up inside me.

Two weeks. Two weeks and he had never once thought to call me. Two weeks and the only thing that had roused him from his writing coma was Seguchi waving an out-of-context picture in his face. How long would we have gone without seeing one another if Seguchi hadn't been so hell bent on making my life miserable? And then, when he finally did come to me, he came with accusations on hand. I broke our insane kiss and shoved Eiri away from me with all my weight. He stumbled backwards, confused.

"What the fu-?"

"Why didn't you call? If you were this desperate, why didn't you call?"

"Why didn't _I_?" Eiri said as a disbelieving half-smile stretched across his face, "Why didn't _you_?"

I shook my head at him. Of course. Why should the great Yuki Eiri put any fucking effort into his relationships? Especially one with me.

"Maybe I was busy," I hissed venomously.

Yuki let out a bitter laugh. "Fucking your half-Japanese music whore?"

"Fuck you, Eiri."

"Well, you've put a stop to that."

And that was it. The overly emotional part of me that I had locked up for well over a year burst through all my carefully erected walls. I flew at Eiri, my arms flailing and fists pounding whatever inch of him that I could.

"You're such a fucking asshole! Do you ever think about me? Do you even know what you did to me? I waited for a year!"

My tears came thickly, sobs catching in my throat as I struggled against Eiri's chest, even though he had long since taken hold of my wrists.

"I waited for you," I sobbed into his chest. "I hate you. I hate you so much."

I felt his hands release my wrists and slip around my body, holding me close. I shook my head into his chest.

"I don't hate you. I hate that I don't hate you. I love you. I love you so much, Eiri. You stupid fucker. I love you."

He held me until my breathing had started to return to normal before he spoke again. "Are you finished?"

I nodded. I wasn't sure if I actually was finished, but I was done with holding it in. Did that make me weak? Maybe, but I really didn't care. He ran his hand down the side of my soggy face.

"Why didn't you come home?" he asked in a voice so soft that I should have immediately melted to his whim, but I didn't.

"Why didn't you make me?"

I could see the quick flash of anger brighten his eyes in that instant. I was glad that he was angry with me; it almost justified my own anger.

"You left."

"You pushed me away!" I shouted, backing away from him.

"Why are you pinning all of this on me?" he asked, his voice a mere growl.

"I could ask you the same question."

Just then, as though the gods knew to save us both from the explosive argument we were about to have, my cell phone rang. I reached my hand into my pocket and pulled out the phone.

"Don't answer that," Eiri snarled at me.

I scrunched up my face in disgust and shook my head before flipping the phone open, but before I had a chance to raise it to my ear, it was out of my hand and making direct, explosive contact with the wall behind me. I blinked down at the bits of my cell phone on the floor by my feet.

"What the fuck, Eiri!? You fucking asshole!"

"We weren't finished."

I recognized the tone of his voice and I knew that I wouldn't be able to escape whatever it was he had in store for me. I dragged my eyes up from the floor, along the length of his designer, tailored pants, over his maroon, silk shirt, across the patch of porcelain white skin that peeked out of the shirt, and finally up to his faultless face; flawless skin, full lips, and piercing, dangerous eyes.

"We're never finished," I replied slowly, almost carefully.

Eiri took a step toward me. It was non-threatening and natural. It had always been amazing to me how quickly we could get over our anger with one another. In one instant, it was gone, forgotten.

"Good," he said evenly, his eyes scrutinizing my body, as though I wasn't fully clothed. "I never want to be finished with you."

My body reacted to Eiri's words without any extra thought. My arms curled up around his neck gently, my hips gravitated towards his, and our mouths met tenderly at first, our kiss increasing in fervour with each second. No matter how much either of us had changed over the last year and a bit, we still needed each other so desperately. As if I could ever love anyone the way I love Yuki Eiri.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, unable to get close enough to his body. Our mouths locked together, unable to taste enough of one another and we breathed noisily through our noses. The truth is passion is ugly. It's beautiful in that two people can look past their ugliness to become one with each other. But, passion itself is ugly business. The way my fingers were frantically pulling at the buttons on Eiri's shirt, the way his hands were gripping my ass, and the sloppy way in which we practically devoured each other's mouths – it was all very unattractive. But it was all so right.

Eiri carried me somewhere; I didn't know where until he'd set me down. We were back in the kitchen. I could tell when the back of my foot hit the cupboard door and also by the irritating whistle of the forgotten kettle. I broke our kiss when I remembered it.

"Eiri," I said between frantic kisses, my fingers still pushing at his buttons as his hands were focussed on my pants.

"What?" he hissed irritably, moving his lips from my mouth to my neck. He bit down gently and I moaned.

"The kettle."

"Fuck the kettle."

"Eiri," I said as my eyes met his, "That would be painful."

He rolled his eyes at me and ruefully disentangled himself from me. "You'd probably like it, you freak."

I smiled at his back and just enjoyed watching him do something as normal as shutting off the burner and setting the kettle aside. He turned, a devilish half-smile on his lips, but something drew his attention away from me, towards the hallway. His smile fell and I turned to see what had distracted him.

"Well, at least I know _why_ you hung up on me, Shu."

"Maiko!" I yelped as I jumped off the counter and tried to do up my pants in mad frenzy.

Maiko snorted at me. "Please, Onii-chan, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

I glanced at Yuki, who simply raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Long time, no see, Yuki-sensei," Maiko said brightly, unable to hide her own enjoyment at my discomfort.

"Hello Maiko-chan," Yuki said with a warm grin. He always had a soft spot for Maiko, probably because of her blunt nature and propensity to tease me.

"Hello?" Another voice called from down the hallway.

"Oh, we're in here, Asuki-chan," Maiko called behind her.

The smile slid from Eiri's face and I knew what his next move would be, but luckily his only exit was blocked up with girls as Asuki joined Maiko.

"Hello, Shu-chan," Asuki said brightly, her own smile dissolved as her eyes focussed on Eiri, who was calmly making a show of doing up the buttons of his shirt. I rolled my eyes and luckily the only person who noticed was Maiko, who smirked at me knowingly.

"Hi, Asuki-chan," I replied slowly, watching Eiri out of the corner of my eye.

"Are you staying to play with us tonight, Yuki-san?" Maiko asked, sensing that the mood had suddenly gone south.

Eiri glanced at me. Well, I had been expecting other people when he'd shown up.

"No," he replied sharply, "I was just leaving."

"I doubt that," Maiko muttered amusedly.

I shot her a warning glance and reached out for Eiri's hand. "Stay."

Eiri turned to me, first scrutinizing my hand on his own, and then my face. He was looking for something malicious; I knew he was, but he wouldn't find it here. If he left now, he'd feel insecure, probably get drunk, and then take it out on me later. If he stayed, if he saw with his own eyes that there was no one that could replace him, then maybe...maybe we'd be closer to fixing this mess.

"Please, stay. I'm just having some people over," I glanced down at my feet, preparing myself for his rejection, "I know it's not really your thing, but-"

"Fine. For a while."

I looked up into his face, searching it for any sense of cruelty, but there was none. He was being genuine.

"But I need a fucking smoke first," he said, reaching into his shirt pocket to pull out a lone, slightly crushed cigarette. He glanced at me, "I know, I know. Not in here. Don't worry about it."

I must have given something away in my expression because he felt the need to add: "I'll come back up."

I nodded slowly, unable to draw my eyes away from him in case he chose to make a run for it.

"I need one, too," Asuki said suddenly.

I stared at her, noticing how miserable she looked for the first time. She and Yuki exchanged foul looks before Eiri slid past her and disappeared down the hallway.

"I said I was coming, too, you asshole!" she spat after him, vanishing down my hallway and out the apartment door.

I made a move to follow them, but Maiko caught my arm. "Don't, Shu."

I looked at my sister, fear gripping every part of my body. "But-"

Maiko shook her head. "They'll work it out themselves and then they'll both come back upstairs."

"How do you know?"

Maiko smiled brightly. "Because for some insane reason, they both love you. Besides, you can't leave. You're the host and everyone else will be here in a minute."

As though on cue, Hiro came through the door, carrying a case of beer, followed by Ayaka-chan, Tatsuha, Suguru, and Megumi-chan. This was turning into an unexpectedly interesting evening. Hiro set the case of beer down beside me and I turned to him on instinct, just in time to catch a glimpse of my sister kissing him on the cheek. It made perfect sense, Hiro and Maiko, it really did. But, it was still hard to wrap my head around, especially with Ayaka in the room. I guess I'd always had a hard time believing that Ayaka and Hiro were done for good, but they really were and there was nothing but good intentions between them. I guess they'd always been too good to be true.

Hiro glanced at me with a familiar sidelong grin as he broke open the case of beer. "Shu, we ran into Yuki and Asuki-chan while we were coming out of the elevator."

I slammed my teeth together in an attempt to keep my face blank and imagined that my feet were nailed to the floor so that I wouldn't run right out the door and down the stairs.

Hiro pulled a can from the box and handed it to me, "I figured you may as well get a head start on the rest of us."

I couldn't help the bitter smile that erupted onto my face. I took the beer from him and cracked it open. "What would I do without you, Hiro?"

Tatsuha strode into the kitchen and slammed a hand down on my shoulder. "You really got my brother's panties in a bunch now, didn't you?"

I took a long swig of beer before responding, hoping that I didn't really have to respond.

"Please, Tatsuha, be reasonable," Maiko said, grinning, "From the looks of things when I got here, I'm pretty sure there were no panties involved."

Ayaka rolled her eyes at me and closed her hand around Tatsuha's elbow, dragging him from the kitchen before he had a chance to harass me any further. Now that was a pair that I had a _really_ hard time understanding. Tatsuha was so wrong for her, such a major fuck up, but since she'd closed her talons in on him, he'd gone from masquerading as respectable to the real thing. I guess they'd just tried to marry her off to the wrong brother.

I watched Hiro and Maiko follow Tatsuha and Ayaka into my living room with an odd sense of detachment. I had been looking forward to this night for a long time now. It was the first time, since I'd returned from the States, that Seguchi had given me a day off, and that was only because he liked the suspense of the Generations concert. He felt holding me back for a couple of days would make ticket sales sky rocket. So, I'd decided to take advantage of the free time and my friends – I couldn't bear the thought of having a night off and being alone. If I had been alone tonight, I might have run again. But now, since Eiri had showed up on my doorstep, I wished that everyone would just go away – Eiri included.

He only served to baffle me. I would have expected the old Eiri to brush me off for two weeks and call me back when he wanted a hole to fuck, but this Eiri? I don't know what I had expected, but I certainly hadn't expected him to seek me out, or to have hurt feelings, or to even notice that he hadn't seen me in two weeks. It had been hard for me not to call him. Really hard. But, he hadn't even thought about me.

I took another swig of beer and then realized I'd emptied the can already. The room was coated in a sort of detached fuzz and I reached into the box for another can.

"You should be careful Shindou-san," Suguru called to me from the hallway.

I looked up to see him watching me with those cool, calculating eyes. Sometimes I swore that he was Tohma's watchdog, but if that were true, he would never have let me escape to LA. I smiled at him in an unpleasantly cocky manner as I opened the second can. Megumi popped up beside him and blinked at me.

"Shu-chan, are you a lush?"

I frowned at her and took a drink. "Aren't you at all concerned about Asuki?"

She shrugged at me and took the beer from my hand, helping herself to it. "She's a big girl. She knows what it means to be in love with the great Shindou Shuichi."

I snorted. "Oh, and what does it mean?" I asked, swiping my beer back possessively.

Megumi smiled slyly. "It means you're untouchable, Shu. To everyone but the equally great Yuki Eiri."

She paused and a troubled look crossed her small features. "But he doesn't just touch, does he? He grabs and twists and never lets go."

"Megumi," Suguru said quietly as he appeared behind her and took her hand in his.

His eyes searched my face and I looked away. I couldn't stand how they all expected me to crumble. Megumi had only spoken with her child-like clarity again. I had no one to blame for what Yuki does to me except for myself. Megumi glanced up at Suguru and then back to me.

"Sorry, Shu," she whispered.

I smiled. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault that the truth hurts."

Just as I'd finished speaking, I heard the door to the apartment creak open. My head snapped toward the direction of the door and my breath caught in my throat. I wanted Yuki to return. I wanted Asuki to return. I wanted both of them to return. I wanted neither of them to return. I barely noticed that Suguru had ushered Megumi from the room because my eyes were glued to the hallway.

Asuki appeared in the doorway. She paused there for a moment and watched me. Fear gripped my heart and disappointment slapped me hard in the face. I immediately felt guilty for those feelings. Asuki had been there when Yuki had not, but no matter how much I wanted to love her, I simply couldn't. Not in the way she wanted, and not in the way she deserved. She smiled at me, weakly, and moved on past the kitchen and into the living room.

The room had started spinning unstoppably and I turned to grip the counter top. I closed my eyes in an attempt to stop the spinning. I felt sick, like my whole world was ending and would be spewed all over the granite countertop of my multi-million yen apartment. The truth was, even though I knew that it would happen again, I couldn't really handle that Eiri had left me. He had built himself up in my heart again; made me dare to believe in him once more, and then he'd done the inevitably predictable – he'd left at the first sign of adversity. I wanted to scream and cry and destroy the world, but instead I stumbled out of the kitchen and into the hallway. My hand lingered on the door handle and I wondered what I would do if I actually made my way outside. Would I be drawn to Yuki's apartment again, content to be a mere fuck buddy to the man I was in love with? Or would I do something even more...damaging? At that point, I wasn't able to tell what I would do. Anything went when Yuki broke my heart, but this time there was a good chance that I would simply go insane.

I opened the door quietly and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut as gently as my drunken reflexes would allow. Then I started to creep down the hallway toward the elevator.

"Hey."

The sound of his voice shocked me and I spun a little too quickly in the direction his voice had come from. He was leaning against the wall beside my apartment door, his head inclined slightly, causing his hair to fall forward into his face. His hair was long, a direct sign of simple neglect, but I'd truly never seen him look so beautiful – an angel in an Armani suit.

"Yuki," I heard myself whisper.

He stood up properly and turned towards me, his expression unreadable. "Where were you going, brat?"

I savoured the way he said the admonishment, as though his 'brat' was his most treasured keepsake. I tried to remind myself that I was done with being just a keepsake, a thing, but the alcohol coursing through my veins told me that it didn't matter, that at the core there _was_ meaning to the way he had spoken to me. More than that, there was meaning in that he was standing just outside my door. There was meaning in the curious expression his eyes held as he watched me and took an unsure step toward me. I waited until his uneasy approach was complete to speak, partly because my brain was moving too slowly to properly function, and partly because I was sure I was hallucinating.

I was drowning in his eyes, warm, coffee coloured eyes. And, I was suffocating because of the concern I saw in them. I couldn't breathe as his fingers ran down my face slowly, carefully, as though inspecting every inch of it for damage. His other hand held my elbow loosely, as though to support me. It was only then that I recognized how unsteady I was on my feet. My legs felt as though they'd been injected with pudding, and the ground swayed below me. But, none of that mattered because Yuki was there right then, supporting me. Suddenly, I knew exactly where I had been going when I'd left my apartment.

"Wherever you were," I replied at length, "Always where you are."


	9. So Jealous

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies. Pulp lyrics are clearly labeled as such and obviously belong to Pulp and their recording studio, etc etc.  
_**

_AN: Huh. Aren't I productive lately? Again, muchos grasias to my beta and to everyone who have been reading and reviewing. :) Thanks for reading!!  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_I don't want to be part of the problem.  
I try so hard to get roughed up.  
Fists on up, it looks that easy.  
It looks that way to me,  
It looks that way to you.  
But then there's you telling me I can.  
Then there's you screaming say something._

_I want the ocean right now.  
I get so jealous that I can't even work.  
There I am in the morning,  
I don't like what I see._

_I don't know how it's become such a problem,  
Keep you up all night if I try to remain calm.  
How can they ask why I feel so angry?  
Do you see my problem if I never explain it?  
But then there's you, asking me how long?  
Say something, it's taken me so long._

_~So Jealous, Tegan and Sara_

Eiri

Something about this felt so very familiar. There I was, averting my eyes from the source of my annoyance, puffing away at a cigarette while my stomach roiled about angrily. The distinct difference was that I was not in my apartment, the cigarette was no longer my favourite way to de-stress, in fact it tasted like shit, and the source of my annoyance was not Shindou Shuichi, who in truth never really annoyed me. I felt her bright green eyes on me even from this distance. It was disconcerting and irritating, especially since Shuichi had distinctly avoided discussing how he felt about her with me. I couldn't stand her bold glaring any longer.

"What?" I barked at her, turning my body slowly to face her.

"I'm just trying to figure it out," she said with a shrug.

Oshiro Asuki was, for all her ability to irritate, which was based solely on the fact that she had fucked Shuichi at some point, beautiful. She held the sort of exotic look that made a person want to stare; even a person like me, who had filed a good eighty percent of the Japanese modelling world through my revolving bedroom door. There was something disconcerting about her eyes, perhaps it was simply how unnaturally green they were. I scowled at her – partly because I found her attractive and partly because I could imagine Shu leaving me for a girl like her. Why wouldn't he? Leaving his fairy days behind him, moving on to make an NG power couple; it was precisely the sort of thing that Tohma would endorse and market to death.

"Figure what out?"

She blinked at me and then looked away, a small smile forming on her face as she stubbed out her cigarette. She drew in a long breath and then approached me. My scowl deepened as her eyes searched my face.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

I knew how defensive I sounded. I knew how vulnerable I was right now, but there was no way in hell I was going to let her get close enough to know. Her smile widened and she let out a laugh. It wasn't the typical soft sound of a Japanese woman's laugh, either. She laughed like a Westerner – full and without remorse. Strangely, it was refreshing.

"You really are a vulgar son of a bitch, aren't you?"

I pulled my cigarette to my lips and stared back at her. I doubted that intimidation would work on her, but I knew that charm was definitely not going to work. Her face remained amused, her wide green eyes watching me with an open sense of fascination.

"But, you're really, very," she paused, "well, very beautiful."

I felt this was a perfect opportunity to release the smoke from my lungs. Was it my fault that she happened to be standing directly in front of me? She shook her head and looked down at her feet.

"You're such an asshole."

"Is there a point to any of this?" I asked, attempting to sound as bored as possible.

Her eyes were back on my face. "Yeah, of course there is. Tell me something, Yuki Eiri, why the hell should I let you have him?"

I laughed at her and stubbed out my cigarette. "I think you'll find, Oshiro Asuki-_chan_, that he won't have it any other way."

I was talking out my ass entirely, but she didn't need to know that. Besides, I really didn't care what she thought. If she thought that Shuichi had declared his undying love to me, then all the better. She and the rest of that fucking annoying rag tag gang of musical disasters had ruined a possibly monumental moment for Shu and me. Maybe she'd be heartbroken enough to leave and take them all with her.

She was silent for a long time, staring at me again. I shook my head and was about to leave when she spoke again. Her voice was small and uneven. It seemed uncharacteristic of her, despite the fact that I barely knew her. She was loud and brash and unstoppable, like Shuichi had been.

"You're really in love with him, aren't you?"

I stopped and turned back to her. "What?"

"You are," she said again, following me with her eyes. "Have you told him?"

"I don't think any of that is your business."

"No," she agreed, "It isn't. But-"

She stopped again and realization seemed to come over her features. She reached out and gripped my arm. "You have no idea, do you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"It's all a facade. All of it. Shuichi is...broken."

She closed her eyes, dropped my arm, and drew in a long breath. She squared her small shoulders before she opened her eyes again.

"I don't want to concede anything, especially to a conceited, self-absorbed asshole like you, but you could have the glue to fix him," she said, her voice even and calm.

In that moment, she reminded me of Shuichi. Not of the Shuichi who only existed in my memories, but the calm, untouchable Shuichi of present day. She'd donned a mask in a manner that suggested it was an easy thing to do. I suppose it was, after all. We all wear masks in some form or another.

"Three little words, Yuki Eiri. And, you better make him believe them."

"What do you-?"

Her green eyes flashed violently and her voice rose above mine, high and strong. "Because if you don't, I will not hesitate to pick up the pieces and I will spend my entire life trying to make them fit together again."

Then she left. Just like that, she disappeared through the door and stormed into the elevator, giving me one last emerald glare as the door closed.

I glanced at my Mercedes, shining in the dull glow of the fluorescents of the parking garage. It would be easy to climb into the car and drive away. That would put the ball into Shuichi's court and then he could decide what to do next. It was an appealing idea, running away. I wouldn't have to play nice with his moron friends.

I was halfway across the parking lot when her words came back to me. Shuichi was broken. All I had to do was tell him that I loved him to fix him. But, that wasn't true. How many times had I said it now? He still held me at arm's length. I'd fucked up by becoming so absorbed in my new novel that I'd neglected him and let that girl get close to him. But how close? Maybe I wasn't the one who could fix him. But, what if I was? Was I going to walk away and let her get even closer to him? Couldn't I go upstairs and still let the ball be in his court? That's when I realized that I wanted to be upstairs with him. I wanted to see him laugh. I wanted to be near him. I wanted to hold him and smell him and taste him. I wanted to be with Shuichi and going home because of some silly pop star wannabe was not going to change that fact. I turned on my heel and started heading back towards the elevator.

The elevator ride felt like it had stretched on for an eternity and the hallway leading to Shuichi's apartment was the longest road I'd ever seen. Even though it should have been perfectly natural for me to return to Shuichi's apartment, I felt vulnerable, bare to the speculations of the people inside the apartment; blatantly obvious to Shuichi. Would he find me weak for showing that I care? My hand wavered over the door handle as though this was the most important decision of my life, but that was stupid. Really, fucking stupid. All I was doing was coming back to Shuichi. I had told him I would. There was nothing unusual about it.

I felt the handle turn beneath my hand and I pulled back as though I'd been burned. I flung my back up against the wall beside the door and I'd never felt more moronic. I was actually _hiding_ behind the door. Hiding like a criminal when even in my most criminal of experiences, I'd been as visible as anything in plain daylight. I watched the door like a terrified animal, fear gripping my heart in a wave of total irrationality.

And then, I saw him and the most extraordinary experience occurred: everything in my body relaxed, as though on instinct. He stumbled a little, a look of intense concentration on his face as he attempted to close the door to his apartment as quietly as possible. I watched him in curious relief as he started to creep down the hallway, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.

"Hey," I said quietly.

He spun violently and I wondered if I had scared him.

"Yuki."

"Where were you going, brat?"

I started to gravitate toward him, as though drawn into the force of nature that was Shuichi. I grabbed his elbow first as he looked unsteady on his feet. The glossy expanses of his eyes were wide and I felt that I had my Shuichi back; the wide-eyed innocent who felt that no matter how awful I was to him, I could do no wrong. I drew my fingers down the side of his face, savouring this moment of happy recognition.

"Wherever you were, always wherever you are."

The stars in his eyes were blinding and I couldn't resist his pull any longer. I leaned in to kiss his lips gently because I simply couldn't help it. The truth was I didn't like not living with Shuichi. Obviously, I'd taken him for granted before; how could I not want to feel this elated every day?

I stood up straight and smiled at the way Shuichi's eyes opened sleepily. He smelled of beer and I knew what a cheap drunk he was.

"You're drunk. Only you could get drunk in twenty minutes."

The scowl that developed on his face was adorable and again reminiscent of another time. "Shut up."

"Should we go inside?" I asked, watching his suddenly transparent expressions with rapt

attention.

I realized that I hadn't seen Shuichi have an alcoholic beverage at all in the time we'd spent together recently. It had never occurred to me, before now, that the best way to get him to remove the mask was to get him drunk, and clearly he was well on his way. Maybe, if I played it right tonight, I could get the answers I wanted out of him, and if I played the game really well, he might not even remember telling me. I smiled at my own sick, little deviation while Shu continued to watch me with glossy eyes.

"Inside?" he repeated.

I nodded slowly. I had forgotten how delectably adorable Shuichi could be when he was drunk. The simplest of ideas had to be explained to him, and even then I still needed to guide him through. Sometimes it was an annoying matter, and other times it was damn cute. Right now it was the latter, mainly because of how distant Shuichi had been lately. The smile that had started to grow on my face stretched a little wider as I remembered the added bonus to a drunken Shu: he was always horny as hell when intoxicated.

"Your friends are inside," I prompted gently.

"Oh," he replied, his face falling suddenly. "I don't want to go in yet, Eiri."

His voice was small and he clutched the sleeve of my shirt.

"What do you want, Shu?"

He smiled at my use of the nickname. He had always been so adamant about my using some form of nickname with him and I had always been so adamant about telling him to fuck off. I couldn't even understand why I would have been so opposed to it; something so small had given him instant happiness. Why could I not have said it sooner? I took a step into Shuichi, which caused him to lose his balance and step backwards into the wall. I leaned my forearm against the wall and kissed him before he had a chance to recover. It was the kiss I should have given him from the very beginning – the sort of lingering, slow-paced, savoury kiss that he deserved. For once, he'd responded by letting me take the lead instead of immediately ramping up the passion. I wanted him to know that I loved him, since he clearly didn't believe me. I wanted to tell him in a way that he would understand.

I broke the kiss delicately and watched his face. It was a long time before he decided to open his eyes again, and when he did, they were more focussed than before.

"Yuki," he breathed.

"Shuichi, I lo-"

I wasn't able to finish my sentence because my retarded brother, who had also had a few too many beers in a short period of time, stuck his head out into the hallway.

"Oooh! Forbidden man love!"

"Shut the fuck up, Tatsuha."

Tatsuha blinked and I looked down at Shuichi in shock. The statement had been one that we all would have expected from my mouth, but it had most certainly come from Shuichi's instead.  
"Well, we're...we're just getting ready to play... Alright, I'll be inside," Tatsuha mumbled, his eyes still wide with shock.

"Shuichi," I started, but he halted my words by sliding out from beneath me.

His eyes met mine and in them I saw something of the old, unstoppable determination that he used to hold.

"We're not finished," he said flatly as he turned his back to me and headed back to his apartment.

I raised an eyebrow as I watched him move. I certainly hoped that we weren't finished, not with the promises that the expression on his face implied. I followed him inside and was instantly overwhelmed by the noise we were greeted with in the living room. Apparently Nakano had brought back some idiotic American video game in which you pretend to play instruments in a band. I leaned in the doorway and watched the idiocy play out as the whole lot of them argued over who would play which instrument. Shuichi walked through the centre of the mess and picked up the microphone. He turned around to get back out of eye of the moronic storm and saw me watching.

"Forgive me if this might seem untoward, but aren't most of you retards already in rock bands?" I asked. I wished I had a cigarette to improve my ironic, disinterested posing, but I didn't.

All at once there was a flurry of protests.

"That's not the point, Yuki!"

"Playing the guitar in the game is totally different from real life."

"It gives us a chance to diversify."

"Don't be such an old fart!"

I was sorry I'd even opened my mouth. Aptly silenced by the retard squad, I sat on the couch next to Ayaka. She stiffened slightly and it occurred to me that she might still be uncomfortable around me, even after all this time. My eyes found Tatsuha, who was currently struggling with Suguru over a drumstick. I sighed. I sincerely hoped that she wasn't being forced into a marriage with Tatsuha solely based on the fact that I refused to give up my lifestyle...and Shuichi.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," I said quietly. Again, the whole transaction would have gone better if I'd had my signature cigarette, but I had nothing to hide behind now.

Ayaka glanced up at me and smiled. "Thank you, Eiri-san."

"Hey, listen," I said after a long pause of watching the rest of them fight over a song, "You're not doing thi-"

"Because of you?" Ayaka's smile was wide and I suddenly felt rather foolish. "No. Tatsuha has always been more accessible to me. I guess I'd wanted what Shindou-kun has, but I could never have it."

My attention was drawn away from her in the instant Shuichi started to sing. His English was extraordinarily good now and a nasty voice in my head wondered if Sakuma had helped him with it. But beyond that, his voice...I hadn't heard him sing live in a very, very long time. I had considered going to see the last concert in Bad Luck's world tour, but had made other plans instead. If I couldn't have him, then I didn't want to see him at all. But I missed this – the clarity of his voice, the powerful energy behind it, the range and diversity of it. No matter how high tech the recording studios at NG were, they could never quite capture the essence of Shuichi's voice properly.

"You should see the way you watch him, Eiri-san," Ayaka said.

I looked at her, slightly irritated at being caught.

"I wonder if he sees it," she continued, softly.

I scowled at her – what was with these women today? Criticizing my communication abilities and demanding whether or not Shuichi understood how I felt about him. What else did I have to do to make it clear to the little runt?

When the song was finished, they all shuffled around, switching fake instruments like mad people. Shuichi handed off the mic to Asuki and headed to the kitchen, all while completely avoiding eye contact with me. My mind started that irritating buzzing again as I ran over possible reasons for Shuichi's behaviour. Maybe he didn't want me there, maybe he wished I would have left, who knew? He returned a couple of minutes later with two beers in his hands and handed one to me before gingerly, albeit nonchalantly, sitting on my lap. I remembered a time when my immediate reflex would have been to pop open the can and unceremoniously shove Shuichi from my lap, but those times were a distant, faded memory. I didn't have a taste for beer anymore, not since that night, and wrapping my arm around Shuichi was a far more appealing than having circulation in my legs.

I set the unopened beer down on Shuichi's ridiculous end table and he closed his hand over the arm I had wrapped around his waist. It was as though I had flipped a switch inside him, one which made him down more beer than I thought was possible and alternately behave like the Shuichi of yesteryear. He was loud, laughed easily, pouted miserably, and sang brilliantly – all the while using me as a chair, but never meeting my eye. I wasn't sure what that was about, but by the end of the night, the lack of attention was pissing me off. Like a fucking ten year old boy, I wanted him to see me and only me, and yet I was the only he refused to look at.

As the night wore on, so did my patience. Despite the fact that I had become Shuichi's personal arm chair and that he refused to acknowledge my existence other than that of another piece of furniture, his constant wiggling on my lap was distracting. It seemed that my horniness was in a direct correlation with my growing anger. At several points in the night, I had wanted to scoop up the inebriated moron and make him pay for my now persistent erection. But at the same time, I was glad to see him behaving normally, even if it was only because of the high alcohol content in his blood.

It wasn't until Hiroshi caught Shuichi who had fallen in the hallway, on his way to the bathroom. He had given me a meaningful look, to which I had responded with a rightful roll of my eyes. Shuichi had never, ever been able to hold his liquor, probably because he only weighed as much as my left leg. I stood up and took Shuichi from Hiro.

"You drunk, little idiot," I muttered at him. He just smiled up at me stupidly and flung his arms around my neck.

"Yuki," he mumbled into my shoulder, holding the 'i' sound longer than he needed to.

It was funny how when I surprised him or when he was drunk, I was Yuki, and yet when he seemed to be in control, I was Eiri. I filed away that little discrepancy for future use. He refused to, or maybe he simply couldn't, walk so I picked him up with ease. On instinct, he wrapped his legs around my waist.

"Where's your room, brat?"

"End of the hall," he mumbled into my neck, kissing it softly.

"Shu," I growled as I picked up the pace to get to his room.

I kicked open the door, stepped in and kicked it shut behind me. I tried to drop him on the bed, but he clung to me, bringing me down with him. I raised my eyebrows at him. This little ruse was incredibly clever for him, if he had in fact just fallen to get me to carry him to his room.

"Eiri," he breathed, lifting his head to kiss me.

I pulled back. Taking advantage of a drunk Shuichi was one thing, taking advantage of a totally hammered Shu was quite another. "You're drunk."

"So?" His pout was irresistible. "When did you grow a conscience?"

I felt my eyes narrow at him as he rapidly degraded from endearing to fucking infuriating. I disentangled his arms and legs from my body and stood up. "Sleep it off."

"Eiri," he whined.

I turned back to see that he was sitting up.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Hmph."

"Please, stay?"

I frowned at him and considered my options. I could go home and write; it was only three after all and that warranted at least another six hours of productivity, or I could stay here and attempt to extract the information from Shuichi that I so desired. I pretended to mull it over some more, savouring the wide, anticipatory look Shuichi was giving me.

"Please," he tried again.

"You only want me to put you to bed."

He shook his head, but it was clear to me that sleep was about to claim him. I leaned over him on the bed and kissed his neck softly. His response was immediate and drunkenly passionate. He gripped at my shirt, pulling it ineptly and moaning like a wanton slut. My hands slid to the waist of his pants, working at the buttons while sliding my free hand up his shirt and toying with his erect nipple.

"Eiri," he moaned into my ear. I pushed his pants off his hips in response.

"I'm supposed to be putting you to bed," I mumbled into the soft skin of his cheek.

"You are, you are!" he insisted, writhing beneath me as my hand hovered just above his cock.

"Shuichi, tell me something."

"Nnngh, Yuki! What?"

His drunken desperation was almost cute enough to distract me from the end goal. I nipped along the side of his neck, which sent him into a pushing and pulling frenzy with my clothes.

"Why did you go to LA?" I asked gently before tugging on his earlobe with my teeth.

"Uhhn. Eiri, who cares?"

"I do."

I traced the outside edge of his ear with my tongue. His hot palms landed squarely on my chest and he tried to push me away. I rolled off of him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"God, Yuki, you're the worst," he muttered, clutching his head. "A real mood killer."

I smirked at him, pointedly looking at the hard on that had not gone away, lurking just beneath the thin linen of his boxers. He frowned at me.

"I went to LA because Sakuma gets it, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"God, Yuki, I thought you wanted to fuck."

I shrugged. Apparently I had gone two weeks without even noticing, so why would an extra day be such a burden. He was too drunk anyway; he'd probably pass out half way through or come obscenely early. Shuichi continued to glare at me.

"He understands what it's like to be alone even when you're not alone. I don't know. I'm probably not making any sense."

Well, at least he could recognize that. He narrowed his glazed eyes at me and his frown deepened.

"If you want to know if I slept with him, why don't you just come out and say it? Not that it's any of your business."

I mimicked a disinterested snort and looked away. The truth was I did want to know. I don't know why, but the idea of that geezer having a go at Shuichi was just about as infuriating as knowing that Asuki had slept with him.

My attention was drawn back to the bed when Shuichi let out a loud sigh and flopped backwards onto the bed.

"You're so transparent, it's almost painful. Why weren't you this easy to read before?"

I didn't like his tone. I didn't like what he was implying. I didn't like that I had lost control of the conversation.

"I didn't sleep with Sakuma, Eiri," he said in a tired tone. He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at me. "There. Are you happy now? Anything else you want to ask?"

I felt my face grow darker. What an insolent, little shit.

"Asuki."

It wasn't a question because there was simply a whole series of questions that I wanted to ask, and I didn't think that I really wanted the answers to many of them. Shuichi's demeanour changed at the mention of the girl's name.

"What about her?"

"You tell me."

Shuichi shrugged weakly and stared at the futon cover he was now fingering. "There's nothing to tell."

"Bullshit."

His eyes met mine and that dark, little storm that had been raging in them earlier, after I had smashed his cell phone, was back, brewing away.

"Leave it, Yuki."

"No. She thinks she has some claim on you."

I hadn't meant to let that bit of information slip and I tried my best not to let my own surprise show. Shuichi's eyebrows lifted, but not in an overly shocked way.

"I guess she does, in a way."

"What way?" I growled, jealousy clouding my better judgement.

Shuichi released a laboured sigh and sat up fully. He looked a little more sober than he had just minutes earlier.

"Look, Eiri. She's not like you, okay? She's different. She's," he paused to find the right word, "special."

"Special?" I asked, my voice was shaking and my head was suddenly pounding.

I remembered a time when I had used that same word to describe Seguchi to Shuichi. I also remembered how erratically he'd reacted. There was no reason for me to repeat past mistakes.

"Yeah," Shuichi said. His voice was unsure, but he clearly wanted to stand by his statement. "You know, a once in a lifetime sort of person."

"I see." It was stupid coming out of my mouth. For fuck's sake, I sounded like fucking Shuichi. Reading too much into nothing, but I couldn't stop myself.

Shuichi's eyes widened. He hadn't expected to hurt me with the statement. He probably didn't even mean it the way it had come out, but there was no taking it back now. He probably hadn't expected me to react at all.

I stood up before he had a chance to fill me up with hollow apologies and before I had a chance to damage myself further. I couldn't believe that I had let myself become so fucking trusting with him. Had I honestly expected this to last? He'd come to stay with me because I was a fucking mess without him, not because he needed me. I opened the door to his room and strode down the hall and out the door; I didn't stop until I was in the elevator, despite Shuichi's cries for me to wait.

The stale air of the parking garage did nothing to quell the rage that was coursing through my veins. She was special, was she? And what the fuck was I, then? Fucking leftover sukiyaki? Goddamn little shit. I couldn't be here anymore. I reached into my pocket and hit the unlock button on the automatic car opener, the shrill beep of the car's alarm system sounding once and echoing through the cavernous space. I climbed into the comfort of my Benz, slamming the key into the ignition and ramming the car into reverse. Normally I would be a little more careful with my Mercedes, but Shuichi had really pissed me off this time.

What a fucking waste of time tonight had been. I should have stayed home and finished my novel, contented with the warmth of my memories. After all, the past was a beautiful thing – it's easy to forget all the bad things with time on your side. The car arced nicely in the wide space of the parking lot and I slid the gear into first as I jammed my foot down on the gas pedal. As quickly as I had done that, I'd had to thump down on both the clutch and brake pedals. Shuichi, in little more than the t-shirt and boxers I had left him in, was standing in the centre of the roadway, his arms were thrown wide and his eyes glared at me with dark determination. The scene was incredibly reminiscent of how he'd forced himself into my life.

I rolled down the driver side window and growled out to him. "Move."

"No!" he shouted, slamming his fists on the hood of the car.

I flinched, not because he had possibly dented my precious Benz, but because he would be feeling that pain tomorrow, when the alcohol wore off.

"Fuck, Eiri! It's always the same with you, isn't it? I thought you'd changed, but I guess I was wrong! Can't handle any opposition, just get up and run away! Why not? You're the great fucking Yuki Eiri. The rest of us can go fuck ourselves!"

He was screaming at the top of his lungs and his voice was starting to become raw. I could practically see the displeasure in Tohma's face now; how dare I upset his superstar to the point of raw vocal chords. As though no one had seen this coming. We were a ticking time bomb, Shuichi and I. It was only a matter of time before the thin veneer lying over our relationship had worn wasted enough for the unspoken rage to slip through.

Shuichi kept screaming and slamming his fists down on the hood of my car. I flinched every time. He was accusing me of everything he could think of: never loving him, leaving him, pushing him away, and toying with his emotions. My head started buzzing again and I threw the car into neutral, yanking the emergency brake up just in case. I wasn't supposed to operate a vehicle when I had these little episodes and since Shuichi had come back into my life, I had them more and more frequently. Why couldn't things just be simple between us? Why couldn't he just see that I loved him? Why did I constantly need to prove myself to him? I pressed at my temple and listened to Shuichi's angry tirade.

"Why don't you understand how I feel about you?" he screamed at me, tears now streaming down his face readily, "Why can't you see? Why can't I be number one to you? Why? WHY, EIRI? WHY DON'T YOU FUCKING LOVE ME?"

He paused to choke back sobs, shadows danced across his small body, as he moved in my headlights. My head felt as if it would explode. How could he ask me those things? How could he not know how hideous the blank space had been without him? Didn't he realize how empty it had been for me to exist without him?

"Don't you understand?" he mumbled, his voice small and muffled and his eyes meeting mine through the windshield. "The music is meaningless without you. Everything is meaningless without you."

And all at once the buzzing stopped. He was telling me that the one thing that had meant more to him than anything, even me, was empty without me. He was telling me that everything he had done in the last year had been empty. He was telling me that we were the same, but had I ever told him my side? I felt my body move of its own accord, as I opened the door and strode towards Shuichi, who stood frozen in the bright white of the headlights. I stopped next to the side of hood and took in his tear-stained face. There was no difference between the Shuichi of two years ago and the Shuichi of present day except that I had jaded him into mistrust. But at the core, now and forever, Shuichi was Shuichi.

He approached me warily, as he well should have, as he always should have done. All I could do was inflict damage upon him; it was all I had ever done, it was what I had gone out of my way to do. How could I have knowingly put him in harms way when all I had wanted to do was protect him? How could I have broken him so much while trying to love him? I wasn't surprised that a salty tear had slid to my lip. I wasn't shocked at all when I found myself grabbing handfuls of his shirt and pushing his legs into the side of my car, but he was. Because neither of us expected me to have spoken so honestly.

"At least you could write music. At least you could still function. At least I didn't destroy your dreams," I shouted through my tears, "I haven't written _anything_ in over a year!"

Shuichi's eyes widened and I felt rather than saw the hand that came up to cup my cheek and wipe away my tears, tears I didn't even bother to stop from falling.

"You are my dream," Shuichi whispered.

My mouth came crashing down on his, our lips crushing together in a bruising kiss. I needed physical confirmation of his love and I believed that he needed that, too. His fingers clawed through my hair, nails scraping the back of my neck. He let his body bend back over the hood of the car as his legs clasped around my hips. I pulled away from his mouth, panting heavily.

"Get in the car."

I stood up and climbed into the driver's seat and watched him run around to the other side of the car, jumping into the passenger seat.

"Wait, where are we-?"

"Too many people upstairs."

I was barely capable of making a coherent statement with the thought of Shuichi splayed across the hood of my car, with the heat and scent of him just beside me. I threw the car into gear again.

"But where are we going?"

I shot him a sidelong glance, "Home."


	10. Lazy Eye

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies. Pulp lyrics are clearly labeled as such and obviously belong to Pulp and their recording studio, etc etc.  
_**

_AN: Surprise! I am NOT dead! I was just moving and my muse went on vacation without me, etc etc etc. Thanks to my lovely beta yet again. 3 Thanks to anyone who's stayed tuned in to this story despite my long absence.  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_I've been waiting  
I've been waiting for this moment all my life  
But it's not quite right_

And this 'real'  
It's impossible if possible  
At whose blind word?  
So clear but so unheard

I've been waiting  
I've been waiting for this silence all night long  
It's just a matter of time

To appear sad  
With the same ol' decent lazy eye  
Fixed to rest on you  
Aim free and so untrue

Everyone's so intimately rearranged  
Everyone can focus clearly with such shine

Lost and loaded  
Still the same ol' decent lazy eye  
Straight through your gaze  
That's why I said I relate  
I said we relate  
It's so fun to relate

It's the room, the sun, and the sky 

_The room, the sun, and the sky_

I've been waiting  
I've been waiting for this moment...

_~Lazy Eye, Silversun Pickups_

Shuichi

It felt as though the world had slowed down in that one instant. There was nothing but the pounding of my heart, a steady bass beat, and the ferocious amber glare of Eiri's eyes. He wanted me, but it was different from before. There was something else there that I'd never noticed before – an inkling of tenderness nestled within the jealous rage and swirling anger. It was the first time, pressed between the rigid coldness of the Benz and the yielding warmth of Eiri's body, that I realized he was really seeing me. Not Kitazawa, not a dream or a ghost, but Shindou Shuichi. Me.

The connection was lost when Eiri looked away from me, either unable to bear the intensity of the situation or his growing erection. Maybe both.

"Get in the car."

It was a standard Eiri demand, but I couldn't quite comprehend his reasoning. I had a perfectly good bed twelve floors up, so where were we going?

"Wait," I said, climbing into the car despite my better judgement, or what little was left of it, "Where are we-?"

"Too many people upstairs."

His reply was brisk and even; I wasn't wrong in my assumption that he wanted me. He did want me and he wanted me without interruption.

"But where are we going?" I asked again, unable to sate the part of me that needed constant reassurance when it came to Yuki.

The blue-white glow of the halogen lights reflecting through the windows of the Mercedes illuminated his face in a wraithlike manner as he turned ever so slightly to speak to me.

"Home."

I felt my breath catch in my throat at the concept of Eiri and I having a home again. But by 'home', of course, he meant his apartment. I suppose it had never occurred to him that I didn't consider the place we once shared my home anymore. The thought of telling Eiri this made my tongue feel three times too large.

"What's wrong?"

I glanced up to find Eiri's eyes on the road. He'd always had this uncanny way of reading the atmosphere around me without even looking at me. I felt an easy smile form on my face as I watched him drive with deadly intent. I decided to hold that feeling. I shook my head at him and sighed.

"Nothing."

"You're a horrible liar."

My smile grew wider and I nodded. I slid my fingers along the top of his hand, resting on the gear stick, easing them in between his. He turned his head to look at me, his eyes wary of my mood.

"It can wait," I told him, my smile easing even more into place.

He continued to look at me longer than any man driving in Tokyo traffic should divert their eyes from the road. A crease was forming between his eyebrows and I reached up with my free hand to smooth the skin there. The car veered suddenly, skidding to a stop on the soft gravel shoulder. Eiri turned the engine off and reached up to pull my hand down before I even had a chance to think about it. As soon as I had grasped what was going on, he pulled my wrist hard, forcing me into him, his mouth closing around mine. It was the type of kiss I'd been longing for since we'd parted ways so long ago. It was Eiri's way of telling me that I was his and no one else's. As though there'd ever been any real question, but then I supposed for him there probably had been.

He pulled back, his tongue running along mine one last time before his lips closed over my bottom lip and tugged gently. He left me breathless, as he was so often wont to do. I closed my eyes as he pressed kisses against my cheek, jaw and neck, pausing over my ear to whisper:

"No one tastes like you, Shu."

I released a sigh to keep myself from going insane with pleasure. Only Yuki could do this to me. No matter who else I'd been with, only Yuki Eiri had ever had this effect on me. Eiri leaned in to kiss me again but I pulled back in fear as I noticed a pair of eyes under a cupped hand at his window.

"What?" he growled, trying to lean in again.

"Pap-paparazzi," I whispered.

Eiri rolled his eyes and tossed his body back into his seat, setting his glare towards the peeping photographer.

"What a fucking nuisance."

I fought the instinctual urge to apologize to Eiri. After all, it wasn't really my fault that they stalked me like a lion hunting a limping gazelle.

Eiri lit a cigarette and breathed in deeply. Then, he rolled down the window and stubbed his cigarette out in the waiting camera lens before peeling back out onto the road. Although I knew that this night would be a public relations nightmare, I couldn't help but laugh. Eiri glanced at me and started to laugh as well. And that's the way we carried on through the night – Eiri darting recklessly through traffic as I laughed madly – we were like criminals on the run. Come to think of it, we probably _were_ criminals after Eiri's little photographer stunt.

The streets of Tokyo passed in a blur of colour and sounds with my heartbeat staccato against my chest. This was the type of excitement that I'd been longing since that day a year and a half ago. This was the fire that no one since had been able to ignite. Nothing fulfilled me like Yuki Eiri. Nothing drove me like having the sole attention of Yuki Eiri. It was a sad, almost unhealthy truth that Yuki's affection, however slim and restrained, completed my very existence. Even though I was fully capable of living my life without him, it was Yuki who kick-started my heart.

We arrived at Eiri's building – the building that we'd made a home in and the building in which that home was broken. Things were still the same there. The staff were familiar, the surroundings comforting, and even the apartment to which we were destined was a placating setting. Familiarity was my kryptonite. It would be easy, especially in my inebriated state, to slip into conformity and be wrapped up in the ease of our old life. I had to keep my wits about me, but it wasn't easy with Yuki Eiri's palm resting reassuringly on the small of my back, guiding me from the car to the elevator, blocking the invading camera flashes with his lean body. I knew where we were heading as much as I'd known when I'd run through the streets after Sakura Love. Then I'd wanted to show Eiri who I had become; I'd wanted him to know that I could dominate our situation as well. That night had never been about sex – it had been about power, and he had submitted when I'd least expected it. Tonight was about sex. But it was about more than sex. It wasn't about dominance and submission, it was about honesty. Finally, as the elevator doors closed and Eiri's chest was still shielding me from prying eyes, I realized that this was honestly the beginning of my happily ever after.

"Hey."

Yuki's voice cut through the garbled mess of my thoughts. I looked up to find his extraordinary eyes upon me, watching me with unabashed concern. That silly, uncontrollable smile tugged at the corners of my mouth again.

"What?" I asked, my voice betraying my emotions with a slight quiver.

"You alright?"

His eyes never left my face and my smile widened. This is what it felt like to be loved by Yuki Eiri. Everything in the past had been leading up to this moment. He wasn't using flowery language, or holding me tightly; he didn't whisper sweet nothings while massaging my shoulders – he'd simply said 'hey' and blocked out the big bad world from my view. And _that_ was worth a hundred thousand sweet nothings.

I felt the words bubbling up from somewhere deep within. They were words I'd been trying to suppress since he'd come for me in America. They were words I'd spoken often, words I'd uttered since, but the magic buzz of tonight made them all the more potent. The moment I'd been waiting for had come.

"Yuki Eiri, I love you."

Eiri blinked once at me, his expression unreadable, and then he took one step forward, slid his fingers through my hair and cupped the back of my neck, and then he kissed me. Not a frantic, lust-driven kiss. Nothing sordid or racy, just a soft, gentle press of his lips upon mine. Just a kiss that said the words I knew had been difficult for him to come to terms with.

When he broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against mine. I kept my eyes closed, simply savouring the intensity of this morsel in time and that's when he said it. He'd said it before, over and over since New York, but again there was a relevancy in the words spoken _right now_.

"I love you."

Three words and I knew that every reservation I had, sound or not, had flown right out the window.

The elevator stopped and I followed Eiri out in silence. We walked down the familiar hallway and I waited while he unlocked the familiar door, and I followed him into the place that had once been my home. Instead of feeling that strange sensation of ghostly recognition, I felt more at home than I ever had.

"Eiri," I whispered.

He turned, the faint glow of the moon and the Tokyo skyline backlighting his face. There wasn't another word spoken before our bodies crashed against one another's. Eiri was upon me in a way I hadn't experienced with him before. There would be no teasing, no drawn out torturing tonight. I wanted to say with my body what no amount of words would tell him and I wanted to be told in the same way.

Despite the frenetic emotions that drew us to one another, Eiri pressed feather light kisses against my brow, my cheeks and my lips. His mouth met mine tentatively, increasing pressure and intensity. I remembered how easy it was to lose myself in Eiri. Even back in the beginning, when I knew there were others, it hadn't mattered because a kiss from Eiri made me feel like there were no others in his world. Maybe that was my blind devotion talking, but I did still feel it now. Eiri had always been infinitely gentle and caring during sex – despite his generally caustic nature outside of the bedroom, behind closed doors he was a different man.

I let him take the lead entirely because it was the natural thing to do and it was what I wanted. Eiri made love to me, not with our usual roughhousing and dominance games, but as though I was someone to be worshipped and adored. Every lingering touch was gentle and teasing, as though I would crumble or disappear if he were to apply too much pressure. Some thought persisted and nagged in the back of my mind, something of ghosts and lost loves, but I ignored it. We would never move forward with the spectre of Kitazawa hovering over us. I knew Eiri was seeing me. I knew that he wanted and needed me. This wasn't about Kitazawa anymore, even if the dead man still haunted Eiri; this wasn't about him.

As I lay next to Eiri, evidence of our spent passion on our skin and on the sheets, he stroked my hair and watched me in silence. I smiled sleepily into his touch.

"I love you, Eiri," I heard myself mumble.

My eyes opened one last time to catch the radiant smile on his face.

"I love you, too, punk."

I awoke to the heady scent of fresh brewed coffee. At first I was overcome with the unpleasant feeling of not recognizing my surroundings, a feeling I had grown accustomed to having from many nights in strange hotel rooms in even stranger cities. As my groggy eyes scanned the room, a wave of nostalgia replaced that distasteful feeling and I sighed and buried my head into the pillow. It smelled of Eiri. The room tasted of Eiri and I knew this place – this place was once home. I rolled over and my eyes focussed on a cup of steaming black coffee resting on the night stand. Beside it were two, white powdery pills – the aspirin that Eiri knew I'd be craving after last night's drunken foolishness.

I smiled at his thoughtfulness and then almost immediately shot up in bed, straining my ears for a sound, any sound that would alert me to his presence. It was a truth universally acknowledged that I was three thousand times louder than Eiri in everything I did, so I tried to stay extremely still and listen. And then I heard it: the persistent clacking of his fingers on a keyboard. My whole body shuddered with relief and I tossed myself backwards into the pillow again. I always had the fear that Eiri would leave me again. Every time things seem to be going so well, he leaves me in some way or another. Time would tell if this trend still held. I reached up and closed my hand around the pills, gently popping them into my mouth and swallowing them dry. It was a habit I'd developed to keep myself from drinking too much – the chalky, acidic taste of aspirin leaving a dry, burning trail down my throat was enough to prevent me from overindulging again in the near future.

I chased the aspirin with a sip of black coffee, savouring the rich flavour of coffee brewed by Eiri. I'd been to gourmet cafes around the world, but no one made coffee like Eiri. Sliding out of bed, I caught my reflection in the closet mirror and I liked the image. It was almost iconic with my tousled hair, still kiss swollen lips and naked body barely covered by crisp, white sheets. Maybe if I ever did a solo album, I'd make a similar image the CD cover. I'd call it something lame like "Shindou Shuichi: Uncovered". I snorted to myself and climbed out of bed the rest of the way.

I opened Eiri's closet and pulled out one of his freshly ironed shirts. Now that I no longer lived here, I imagined that he had returned to having them professionally done. I didn't feel guilty about dirtying or wrinkling his clean shirt because I knew he wouldn't give a damn anyway, even if he did make a fuss. Then I tiptoed down the hallway to Eiri's study. He would hear me coming, no matter what I did, but I tiptoed anyway.

There was a soft, warm glow escaping from the doorway of his office. No matter where we had lived, the office always had to be situated facing the same direction. Eiri revelled in the morning sunlight, although he was rarely up early enough to enjoy it. I paused in the doorway as I caught sight of him – the sun had an amazing effect on someone already so beautiful. The rays of light played tricks with my eyes, making Eiri's hair seem almost blonde in colour. He was paler than usual in the glow, the sunlight reflecting prettily off of his bare chest and shoulders. I smiled involuntarily. There were many reasons why I loved Eiri, but the first had always been how serenely beautiful he was, even while caustically attacking my latest lyrics, or poking away at his keyboard in deep, concentrative thought.

His fingers stopped suddenly and he twitched his head in my direction slightly, a ray glinting off of his gold wire-rimmed glasses. I expected him to shoo me out of his office, or to make a biting remark, but instead he very softly said:

"Oh, you're up."

I stood as still as a statue, unable to shake the expectant feeling that his next words would not be so kind. Eiri swivelled his chair around so that he was facing me, pulling off his glasses and pausing the chair's motion with his toes. All at once he looked like a delicious gift from the heavens, and this fabulous creature was watching me, waiting for me to speak. Yuki Eiri was in rapt attention of whatever was about to come out of _my_ mouth.

"Uh. Hi," I stuttered lamely.

Eiri blinked once as his eyebrows moved together in an expression of utter disbelief and then he let loose an easy laugh. I felt my body tense even more. Yuki Eiri didn't laugh. Yuki Eiri barely smiled and he _never_ laughed. Alright, he had laughed last night but I'd figured that it was probably the beer in his system. Oh God, oh God – I could barely stand his eyes upon me. His smile slowly fell as he watched my presumably terrified expression.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

"Yes," I breathed. It took me a moment to realize what I had said. Shaking my head to clear it, I tried again.

"I mean, no. I-"

"Did you enjoy your coffee?"

His eyes were still on me, a warm caramel brown from the reflected sunlight. I wanted to pinch myself to be sure this was real.

"Yes, thank you."

Eiri released a long sigh, likely because of my restrained tone. The truth was I was afraid to believe in this. I was afraid it would all be taken away.

"Is that your new novel?" I asked abruptly, finally walking into the room.

I was trying to move with the grace of someone totally comfortable with his surroundings, but I felt almost mechanical instead. The file had been labelled Kitazawa and I had not forgotten. I realized all too late in my haste that I had asked a question I hadn't really wanted to, but it was too late now – I was standing right next to him, looking at the screen.

"Yeah," Eiri replied, "that's it."

He swivelled back around, the brush of his clothed knee against my bare thigh made all the more electrifying by the tension I'd created. I spun around and leaned on the desk, looking down at Eiri.

"And how's it going?" I forced out. The closeness to Eiri, the freeness between us, was starting to intoxicate me. I felt like fleeing the room from all the intensity.

Eiri's eyes locked on mine again and I felt embarrassed for some reason. I felt almost exactly as I had the first time I'd asked Eiri to kiss me – I wanted it, but it terrified me. He rolled a little closer, purposefully pressing his leg against my thigh as he moved. I bit my lip without thinking as a devilish sideways grin grew on his face.

"I don't know how to end it," he said at last.

His hands reached around my legs, sliding up and under the shirt I was wearing as he pulled me down onto his lap. I released a shaky breath as my hands snaked around his shoulders. The smoothness of his skin always baffled me – I knew for a fact that he didn't fall victim to products bred on vanity. I guess he was just born perfect.

"What's it about?" I managed to squeak out.

Eiri pulled his hands out from under the shirt and rested them on my hips. He was looking down and away, as though he didn't want to tell me what it was about. As though he were really debating this whole discussion. The pace of my heart started to increase with his silence. I was convinced that it was about Kitazawa. Maybe he'd even decided to write his own little autobiography and keep his dead mentor alive on the pages. Maybe he'd written them a happy ending.

I wanted to leave right then. I wanted K to pick me up and take me to the studio so I could sing. I wanted to go on tour and never look back. I pushed my weight against his hands in preparation to get off of his lap and run. I was stupid to think that he was actually seeing me. That he wanted me. He always, always wanted Kitazawa. Always.

"Shuichi."

His voice was sharp and the pressure of his hands was bruising. He wouldn't let me run. I glared at him defiantly, every fibre of my being raring for a fight.

"Shu-"

But I didn't want to hear it. "Kitazawa," I spat venomously.

Eiri's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Kitazawa," I repeated confidently, "I saw the file name. It's about Kitazawa, isn't it?"

I was talking about the book and yet I wasn't.

"The file name," Eiri repeated softly, his face relaxing; his grip loosening.

"Well?"

His eyes studied my face. I knew I was angry. I could feel the way my face scrunched up, the way it all seemed to centre. I was taut as a bow, too. I wanted to spring into a violent fit of punching and kicking and I was barely restraining myself.

"It's not about Kitazawa," he said evenly, calmly.

"What?" I felt both deflated and more deeply enraged. Eiri wasn't known to lie to me.

"But, the file name... Don't li-"

"If," Eiri started sharply, cutting off my sentence, "you had been ever so slightly _nosier_, you might have been inclined to read the _content_ of the file."

I was silent for a moment, digesting his words carefully. He was telling me that the file had not even been about Kitazawa. It was as though a light bulb had suddenly been flicked on in my brain as I remembered Yuki's habit of giving files names that had no bearing on the content.

"If it wasn't about Kitazawa," I said slowly, "then what is it about?"

Eiri's face broke into an easy smirk. "You."

His eyes widened as he watched my reaction. He really did enjoy winding me up. "Me?"

"Yes. But I deleted it," he said nonchalantly. He reached beyond me to the desk and stuck something in his mouth. I would have assumed that it was a cigarette if not for the strawberry scent that hit my nostrils. He was eating strawberry pocky. I guess he really had quit smoking. His distraction technique worked only very briefly.

"Why did you delete it?" I asked, affronted.

He shrugged and crunched on his pocky. "What can I say, Shu? You can't be confined to the page."

I frowned at him. I wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or an insult and as such, I had no idea how to react.

"So," I began slowly, choosing my words carefully, "what is this novel about?"

Eiri leaned back in his chair and studied my face before answering.

"It's about a man who made a very big mistake."

I lifted my eyebrows expectantly, annoyed by his vague, simplistic plot summary. "Go on."

Eiri held back a smile. "You see, the story really begins when this man meets a person who completely changes his life. A person who judged him by completely foreign criteria. A person who completely lacked common sense, because like I said the man had made mistakes. Huge mistakes."

Eiri paused and I felt my stomach do a little flip. He couldn't possibly have written something about himself, could he?

"Anyway, despite all the actions and words of this life altering person, the man couldn't forgive himself and he made yet another mistake."

"What was the mistake?" I asked impatiently.

"He pushed away this person, this lover of his. He made the person feel like he didn't belong with him anymore."

My heart pounded unsteadily in my chest. Had Eiri made a reference to both characters being male? A homosexual novel in Japan? Never mind that – an autobiographical story? Maybe I was hearing him wrong, but somehow I didn't feel that I was.

"The man soon discovered that his life was painfully empty without his lover. His heart, which he had been so certain was closed off, bled freely at the thought of this person. He remembered how to love."

"And," Eiri continued, looking down at his hands in an uncharacteristic moment of bashfulness, "against all odds, these two people managed to come together again."

"And then what?" I breathed

"And then I don't know what will happen, Shu. One of them might die; the man might make yet another stupid mistake; his lover might decide that he's had enough of his bullshit. I have no idea," Eiri sighed.

"Well, what if-"

The shrill ring of Eiri's cell phone interrupted me and we both glanced at the display. I recognized the number as Tohma's and I grabbed Eiri's hand before he had a chance to pick up the phone. Then in a rush of impulse and desperate need, I kissed Eiri – hard. His mouth melded with mine, the ringing phone long forgotten. My arms tightened around his shoulders and neck while his slid up my back. I was the one to break the wild kiss, pulling back only far enough to speak.

"What if you give them a happy ending?" I whispered.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen Eiri so vulnerable, unshed tears shimmering in the corners of his eyes, but it was shocking after being apart from him for so long.

"Do you think they can have one?" he asked, his normally strong voice crackling with emotion.

The infectious smile that wanted so desperately to be free was finally let loose. "Sure, Eiri. I believe in happy endings."

We had a moment of reverent silence and I started to move in to kiss him again when his phone started ringing, yet again. It was then that I remembered that Yuki had totally annihilated my phone last night.

"Shit," I whispered, "I'm probably missing something."

Eiri shrugged and reached for the phone. "Tohma's used to it. He worked with that whack job, Sakuma, for years."

I watched as he turned the phone off and tossed it into the hall where it landed with a loud crash. I winced at the sound, but Eiri couldn't care less.

"Now, where were we? Something about happy endings, I think?"

There was a gleam in his eye that told me that I was about to learn just how happy endings can be.


	11. All I Want Is You

**_DISCLAIMER: Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami. I'm just borrowing the characters to fulfill the needs of my own morbid plot bunnies. Pulp lyrics are clearly labeled as such and obviously belong to Pulp and their recording studio, etc etc.  
_**

_AN: Okay so this chapter is a lot of dialogue...and kinda short. Sorry. : S  
_

**WARNING: Explicit language, adult situations, likely drug/alcohol abuse, potential for violence, and definitely, at some point, smutty business will be afoot. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 16, YOU MAY WANT TO LEAVE THE PREMISES. Consider yourselves warned.**

_You say you want  
Diamonds on a ring of gold  
You say you want  
Your story to remain untold_

But all the promises we make  
From the cradle to the grave  
When all I want is you

You say you'll give me  
A highway with no one on it  
Treasure just to look upon it  
All the riches in the night

You say you'll give me  
Eyes in a moon of blindness  
A river in a time of dryness  
A harbour in the tempest  
But all the promises we make  
From the cradle to the grave  
When all I want is you

You say you want  
Your love to work out right  
To last with me through the night

You say you want  
Diamonds on a ring of gold  
Your story to remain untold  
Your love not to grow cold

All the promises we break  
From the cradle to the grave  
When all I want is you  
~All I Want Is You, U2

Eiri

I have never been sentimental about sex. I would believe that this still holds but for one exception: I have not felt this fulfilled in nearly two years. No matter who it was beside me, no matter how breathtakingly beautiful, how intelligent or how influential, there has never been anyone who makes me feel as fully satisfied as the infuriatingly simple and yet dreadfully complex creature beside me now. Unfortunately, I had refused to acknowledge this fact until he had left me, presumably for good. Now that he's back, despite some rather evident trust issues, I refuse to let him out of my grip again.

I reached out, carefully disentangling my arm from his, and brushed a strand of hair from his face. There was something here, written on his soft features, that told me of his own satisfaction. His eye cracked open and a small, familiar smile stretched across his face.

"Yuki," he mumbled, snuggling into my chest.

I wanted this forever. I wanted to keep him out of harm's way and just lay here forever. My publishing contract could go fuck itself; Tohma could go fuck himself; and all the Bad Luck fans in the world could go fuck themselves. I wanted Shindou Shuichi right here, by my side forever.

"Shu," I breathed softly into his hair.

He mumbled back questionably.

"Move in with me."

I wasn't sure what I'd done wrong at this point, but I felt every muscle in his relaxed body tighten. He pulled back from my embrace and stared at me with two very wide, very alert eyes. When he didn't say anything, when his face did not break into a readable expression, I felt the sudden panicky need to continue talking.

"I don't want to be apart from you."

Fuck, I sounded like a clingy chick. In fact, I sounded like the Shuichi of once upon a time ago.

Shuichi sat up abruptly, his brow furrowed and mouth pursed. He looked as though this were a painful request – like I'd asked him to cut off his right arm for me, or stop singing.

"Look, I-"

"No," he said sharply, cutting me off.

The shock that I felt must have been evident on my face for his harsh expression melted and his eyes grew warm again. He reached out his small hand and stroked my face once.

"I can't," he said softly.

"Why?" I asked before I had a chance to stop myself.

As though the people in our lives had radar set up for any and all important conversations that Shuichi and I had, my cell phone began ringing. Shuichi started to crawl out of bed.

"Don't answer it."

The tone of my voice was harsh and cold. Shuichi glanced back at me, caught my stormy expression and rolled his eyes. He climbed the rest of the way out of bed and made his way down the hall to pick up the phone off the floor.

"Hello, Tohma."

I could hear him, but I couldn't see him. He knew exactly where to stand in the hallway so as to deny me any visuals on him. I wasn't surprised that it was Tohma on the other end of the line, but I did wonder just when it had happened that Shuichi had started calling him by his first name.

"Yes, I understand. Of course."

Every pause only served to irritate me. I wanted to know just what Tohma was feeding Shuichi now. Shuichi made one more affirmative sound before he snapped the phone shut. He didn't return to the bedroom right away which irritated me further. When he did return, he said nothing to me. He didn't reinitiate the conversation we'd been having; he didn't even crawl into bed with me again, instead he went straight for my closet and started fishing around in there.

"What are you doing?"

I didn't like my own tone – it was sharp and unpleasant, cool and detached. I wondered if I had always sounded like this.

Shuichi answered me without turning around. "I'm looking for clothes."

"Where are you going?"

Again, my tone was unpleasant. Shuichi paused then and turned towards me, a pair of my worn jeans in his one hand and a white button down shirt in the other. The expression in his eyes was incredulous.

"You don't get it, do you?"

"What are you talking about?" I could hear the forced irritation in my voice.

Shuichi shook his head at me and rolled his eyes as he walked past me to the small television in my room. He grabbed the remote furiously and flicked the television on.

_"-ri's apartment building where the two on again, off again lovers are said to be residing currently. There has been no comment from either Meirin Publishing House or NG Records since last night's apparent assault on photographer, Yamamoto Kenichi."_

"Do you see now?" Shuichi asked, pulled on my jeans which were far too long for him. He rolled the bottoms and somehow they suddenly looked fashionable.

"Not really."

Shuichi stood upright and glared at me in disbelief. "Everything I do is scrutinized. Last night was a mistake I'll never live down."

His mouth snapped shut then as he realized his word choice. Instead of dealing with his blunder, he pulled on my shirt and continued busying himself with getting dressed. He returned to the closet, this time struggling and digging around in the bottom.

"What are you looking for?" I tried to keep my voice even and calm when in reality I wanted to pounce from the bed and shake the ridiculous, little man with whom I had the misfortune of being in love.

"Shoes," was his muffled reply.

"Well, nothing in there will fit," I sighed, flopping back on the bed.

I glanced at the television and watched as pictures of myself flashed on the screen. I was trouble. I was bad news. Shuichi was so huge that even my fame couldn't blot it out. It was fine when it was the other way around, but now things were different.

"Shuichi."

"Hm?"

"Don't go."

"Eiri," Shuichi sighed, finally climbing out of the closet with my pair of geta in hand. "I have to go."

"You don't _have_ to do anything. You're Tohma's cash cow – where you go, the money goes."

"Fuck off, Yuki," he spat venomously as he pulled on the geta.

I shrugged at him. "Shuichi, move in with me."

It wasn't a question, just a flat out demand. Shuichi stood still for a moment, his expression unreadable. I knew somehow that he wasn't thinking it over, rather he was trying to decide how best to hurt me with his response.

"I won't," he said softly.

I was annoyed at this point. The little shit was just being stubborn. Hadn't he been the one who had bombarded my life like a missile? Hadn't he been the one who had repeatedly said that he wouldn't leave me no matter what? I deserved something more than a constant denial with no explanation.

"Why the fuck not?" I was demanding, cruel and cold. I wanted to know, damn it.

Shuichi's anger flared up immediately and I was glad for it. He was always more honest when he was angry.

"For years you've told me how selfish I was. Years, Eiri. But you never once stopped to look in the mirror. You're a hundred times more selfish than me! When things get inconvenient for the great Yuki Eiri, you'll leave. You always have, so what's the point?"

After his outburst, a familiar surprised expression came over his face. He hadn't meant to tell me those things. He had always intended to protect me from the truth.

"That's what you think?" I said coolly, unable to quench my anger.

Shuichi, to my surprise, stood his ground and glowered at me. "That's what I know," he spat. He pointed at the television violently.

"Look at that, Eiri. That's my life. That _circus _is my life. _That's_ who I am. And you," he laughed bitterly, "Well, you hate that."

I was shocked into silence by his words. He honestly had devoted his entire being to his persona. My typical irresponsibility, which in the past he wouldn't have given two shits about, he now viewed as a personal attack on his very existence. We glared at one another impressively while I thought about my next few words. Instead of shaking him madly, which I so desired to do, I burrowed into my pillow.

"Shindou Shuichi," I said softly, a note of bitterness in my voice, "The man who has become his music."

After a long silence, Shuichi came over and gingerly sat at the foot of the bed.

"We're not compatible," he said softly, as though it were the most reasonable thing to say.

"There's evidence in this room that would suggest otherwise," I replied.

"That's just sex, Yuki."

"Is it? I was under the impression that it had been more. But maybe that's your most fitting revenge."

Shuichi was silent again for a spell.

"How long until you grow tired of me? Or annoyed? Or you decide that it's better for me if you leave? How long, Eiri?"

I sat up then and stared at him. There was an evident pain that was clear on his face. He held a mask up for so long, but I could see now that it was slipping. He didn't trust me and I certainly couldn't blame him for that. He looked away from me and shook his head.

"I can't move in with you. Not here."

Like a light bulb switching on to a slow and steady glow, my brain finally kicked in. This was where it had ended. This place had bad memories, as well as good.

"Well, I sure as hell can't move in to your three ring circus apartment."

Shuichi started, his eyes wide and searching my face for a hint of irony. He would find none.

"I wouldn't expect you to," he replied cautiously.

"Good."

I watched as Shuichi's face softened. His eyes searched my face somewhat desperately, but I didn't know what he wanted to hear. 'Not here' he'd said. And not in his apartment, so where? Then it really dawned on me. Shuichi wanted a place that was ours – distinctly _ours_ – that is, assuming he would actually move in with me.

"You want to go house shopping," I said with a confidence I didn't fully feel.

Shuichi's mouth fell open and then snapped shut again. He looked away, suddenly interested in his fingertips.

"That's pretty serious. A lot of commitment."

"I'm willing," I said quickly.

His eyes met mine warily and he swallowed noisily. Our conversation was cut short by a pounding at the door followed by:

"Yoo hoo! Shuichi-chan! Time to go. Don't make dear old K break out his Magnum."

Fucking K.

"I have to go," Shuichi said softly as he stood up to leave.

"Shuichi," I called to him as he walked down the hallway. He paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Can I see you tonight?"

His eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded lightly. He stared at me a moment longer, the faintest of hopeful smiles tugging at his lips. I let a cautious smile slide loose on my own face.

"I have a TV spot today," he said somewhat breathlessly, "for the concert. Maybe we could do dinner?"

The intonation in his voice coupled with the hopeful sparkle in his eyes made the cautiousness of my smile disappear.

"In or out?"

Shuichi's face crumbled in confusion. "What?"

I repeated my question slowly, as though I were speaking to a retarded chimpanzee. When he continued to stare at me, his head cocked to the side and his lips parted in a rather delicious touch of wonder, I rephrased the question:

"It's not rocket science, Shu. Do you want to eat in or do you want to go out?"

"I didn't know I had the option," he replied slowly. He then looked away, contemplating his choices. Perhaps giving him two vague options was just too much for his little popstar brain to comprehend.

"I want to," he paused, still thoughtful, "Well, I want to eat in, but out."

"In, but out?" I repeated incredulously. Only Shuichi would come up with that option.

"Somewhere private, but not here."

He looked confused by his own suggestion.

"Fine," I said softly, "I know where we can go."

Tohma had several condos and houses scattered throughout the Tokyo Metropolis and I knew exactly which of those several would fit the bill for Shuichi's strange request.

"Okay," he replied at length.

The air between us became temporarily awkward as he stared at me in wonder. You'd think I'd never done anything nice for the brat in my entire life.

"Just call me when you're done. I'll pick you up."

Shuichi nodded wordlessly, but continued to stare at me. K started pounding at the door again, which seemed to jolt Shuichi into action. Like the days of yesteryear, Shuichi bounded toward me, flinging his taut arms around my neck and firmly pressing his lips against mine. The kiss melted into something softer and more intense and my longing for him only increased. His hand slid down my chest and into my lap, resting lightly and hotly against my dick.

He broke the kiss and smiled against my lips. "Save some of that for later, Mr. Yuki," he whispered before bounding off the bed and out into the hallway.

Startled, I tossed a pillow after him and yelled: "Fucking punk!"

I was rewarded with a sharp giggle and the sound of the entry door clicking shut. With a wide smile on my face, I collapsed back into bed again. In the brief moment, I'd had him again – the Shuichi I knew so very well: cheeky and energetic; hopeful and generous. I hoped he'd stay for a while.

My smile died as the jarring voice of the photographer I had "harassed" last night came pummelling through my television's speakers.

_"All I want is for Yuki Eiri to apologize. That's all I want!"_

That's all you want, huh? Of course, it wasn't really all he wanted. What he really wanted was some sort of monetary compensation, but with video evidence for millions of viewers there would be no way that he would ever deny that all he wanted was an apology from yours truly. So, I did "the right thing", as Tohma would say – it's funny because five years ago, the right thing would have included pretending that I didn't know Shindou Shuichi, but now...well, things were infinitely different, weren't they?

I got dressed, grabbed my sunglasses, exited my apartment and rode the elevator down to the main floor. I then walked directly into the media circus outside my building (I could practically hear Mizuki's aneurism) and I walked right up to that little weasel of a photographer.

"Yamamoto-san, I apologize for my behaviour last night. Admittedly I was not myself and although that is no excuse for my behaviour, I hope that you can forgive me."

The journalists were silent as I spoke and silent a moment afterwards. I watched as a rivulet of sweat rolled down the chubby paparazzo's neck as his bulging eyes stared at me in absolute disbelief. He'd been all talk. He'd hoped against hope that Meirin Publishing and NG Records would pay him to shut up. He'd never, ever thought that I would apologize. At least he'd been intelligent enough to realize that he would never be allowed to have face-to-face contact with Shuichi.

"Forgive me if I heard incorrectly," I said, taking advantage of the silence and his lack of response to make some more video evidence, "But you did say that all you wanted was for me to apologize, did you not? And I do apologize," I paused for dramatic effect, sweeping off my glasses and shooting him a winning smile, "From the bottom of my heart."

"Well," the blubbering whale of a photographer said, "I accept your apology."

Of course he did. There was nothing more to say when all of Japan is your witness. Flashbulbs went off all around us and I smiled pretty for the cameras. I was not surprised when twenty minutes into my impromptu press release, my cell phone started ringing. I pulled it out of my pocket, knowing full well who it was. I made my apologies to the press and went back into the building, jumping into an elevator before any of the vulture-like journalists had a chance to follow me inside.

"Hello Mizuki."

"Yuki Eiri, you will be the death of me."

"I certainly hope not, Mizuki-chan."

"Don't you 'Mizuki-chan' me, mister! What the hell do you think you're doing? There could have been plausible deniability here!"

"I have no desire to deny any of it. It did happen."

"Yuki-san! That's not the point! What has gotten in to you?"

I considered her question for a moment, before answering. "I just want to make things easy on Shuichi."

Mizuki was silent after that; perhaps I'd shocked her into the silence. "Wow," she said at length, "I never thought I'd hear you say those words, Eiri."

"Well...whatever. I fucked up, why shouldn't I make it right?"

"But, Eiri, by apologizing you admit your guilt."

"I'm not stupid – he said all he wanted was an apology, so I gave it to him."

"On live television," Mizuki replied slowly.

She sighed uneasily. "Sometimes these things are never cut and dry, Eiri."

I shrugged, even though she couldn't see me. "I guess we'll find out."

I clicked my phone shut before she had another chance to point out how reckless I'd been. Shuichi really did bring out the worst kind of rashness in me. Oh well.

It was an hour before Tohma called me, which really surprised me. What surprised me more, and made me incredibly frustrated on top of it, was that Shuichi hadn't called me – that is, until I remembered that I had completely annihilated his phone the night before.

"Bravo, Eiri."

"Hmph." I was getting more than a little tired of all of Japan being shocked by my actions.

"I do wish you would have consulted your publishing house first. NG and Meirin had been working together on a statement."

"I bet you wish I hadn't done it at all."

"Hm. But then you wouldn't be the Eiri I love so much."

I growled into the receiver and Tohma laughed in that creepily pleased way. He was sort of like a kid teasing a caged animal. Bastard.

"Seguchi, I need to use the suite in Izu."

There was silence on the line.

"In Izu? Such a far way out?"

There was something in the lightness of his tone that warned me. He thought I meant to use it to hide something from Shu.

"It's for Shuichi, Tohma," I said dryly.

"It shouldn't be a problem," he replied, his voice considerably cheered. "For tonight, I assume? I'll tell them to expect you. You know, you could always come with me to the suite in Izu any time you'd like, Eiri-kun."

I flipped the phone shut. Weirdo.

I stared at my computer screen, willing the words to come to my fingertips. Nothing was happening at all. I had one thing on my mind, and one thing alone, and that was the prospect of buying a house with Shuichi. That was a happy ending, wasn't it? Well, not really happy, more like dysfunctional ending. But it worked for us, didn't it? Not always, as we were both high strung and easily angered, but it did work.

I picked up my phone and dialled the number of my real estate agent. Sometimes happy endings start with new beginnings.


	12. Hiding My Heart Away

Chapter 12 - Hiding My Heart Away - Shuichi

_So this is how the story went_  
_I met someone by accident_  
_Who blew me away_

_It was in the darkest of my days_  
_When you took my sorrow and you took my pain_  
_And buried them away, you buried them away_

_And I wish I could lay down beside you_  
_When the day is done_  
_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_  
_But like everything I've ever known_  
_You'll disappear one day_  
_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_I dropped you off at the train station_  
_And put a kiss on top of your head_  
_I watched you wave_  
_Then I went on home to my skyscrapers_  
_Neon lights and waiting papers_  
_That I call home_

_I wish I could lay down beside you_  
_When the day is done_  
_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_  
_But like everything I've ever known_  
_You'll disappear one day_  
_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_I woke up feeling heavy hearted_  
_I'm going back to where I started_  
_The morning rain_  
_And though I wish that you were here_  
_On that same old road that brought me here_  
_Is calling me home_

_I wish I could lay down beside you_  
_When the day is done_  
_And wake up to your face against the morning sun_  
_But like everything I've ever known_  
_You'll disappear someday_  
_So I'll spend my whole life hiding my heart away_  
_I can't spend my whole life hiding my heart away_

_~Hiding My Heart Away, Adele_

I barely noticed the flashbulbs and shouted questions as K ushered me out of Eiri's building into the safety of his Hummer. I barely noticed anything at all. Yuki Eiri had just asked me if I wanted to buy a house with him. And then he'd asked me for dinner. A legitimate date that I hadn't had to wrangle out of him. On the surface, I was ecstatic beyond all reason. This was what I always wanted. Yuki Eiri admitting that he loved me. That he needed me. But there was something bothering me about the whole thing. Something that niggled at the back of my mind.

"You and Yuki san sure know how to make news," K said cheerily.

I cringed internally at his words, remembering the eerie calmness of Tohma's voice over the phone. He was angry again.

"It's almost like old times!"

And that was it. Those five words were all that was needed to rock me from my bubble of happiness. I didn't want it to be like old times. The old times hadn't worked for us. The old times had left me wrecked and battered emotionally. The old times were full of too many uncertainties.

"No," I whispered.

"What's that, Shuichi?" K asked turning to me with his big, goofy grin.

I turned to face him and felt my expression harden. "It can never be like old times again."

K's smile died and he turned back to the road in silence. There was nothing to be said, really. I had made a mistake the night before. I had made the brutal, near fatal error of believing in Yuki Eiri this morning. I had conveniently forgotten all that had happened just over a year ago and trusted his beautiful face as he told me sweet lies. I could feel my heart aching. Yuki Eiri and I were never meant to be.

We drove on in silence, which was good because I had nothing to say. Part of me wanted to run away with Eiri and part of me wanted to get into a time machine and take back yesterday. There had been too much emotion last night. There'd been too much given away. I wondered at the cost; what would I pay to hear Eiri say those words? What would I pay if I believed in them?

"Just one stop first, Shuichi."

K's voice shook me from my thoughts. I looked up and realized where we were.

"This is my apartment," I said slowly.

K looked at me as though I were a mental patient. "You can't go on TV in _that_."

I looked down at myself and realized what I was wearing. Yuki's clothes. Yuki's shirt. Yuki's jeans. Geta. Seriously. I sighed heavily.

"You're right."

K looked at his watch. "You have one hour before I break the door down and drag you to the studio, clothed or not."

K flashed me a psychotic smile, as though he would prefer that option.

"Got it," I said rolling my eyes.

I opened the door, my foot resting on the pavement of the parking garage, and lingered there. I looked back at K, who was busy polishing his gun.

"I'm sorry, K."

He looked at me and frowned. I looked at my reflection in his sunglasses – a small, almost frail me looking back. I didn't like it. I didn't want to be vulnerable again.

"For what?"

I shook my head and shrugged. "For all the trouble I've caused."

K set down his gun and looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Shuichi, you are far less trouble here than when you're gone."

My breath caught unexpectedly. It was as though I had conveniently forgotten my little disappearing act; as though the only important thing to me now was Yuki. I'd forgotten the hell I'd put everyone through.

"Shuichi."

I looked up at K again, almost reveling in the hard sting of tears at the corner of my eyes.

"Don't do anything you'll regret."

My heart pounded painfully in my chest as I fought the tears that threatened to fall. That wasn't who I was anymore. Yuki Eiri did not complete me. My life did not revolve around his whims anymore. This would be fine, except that it wasn't true at all. But, if K thought I was making a mistake with him, what would Hiro think? Or Suguru? Or Seguchi, even? And what about Asuki? Hadn't I just been leading her along? And it was just because she was there. It was just because she craved my attention in the same way I craved Eiri's. I knew it, and I'd known it all along, and yet I'd kept going.

I climbed out of the car and slammed the door behind me without responding. I couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to say anything. I stared at my reflection in the mirrored elevator wall. I looked like hell. I really looked like I'd crawled out of a dumpster or something. I hated the look in my eyes. I hated the unshed tears that shone there. I hated that Yuki had made me this way. No. I hated that I had allowed myself to become like this. I straightened my stance, staring the mirror-me in the eyes. I watched his arm come up and wipe those tears from his eyes. I watched his lip curl up into his signature grin. I watched him raise his head just like a superstar. I watched him and I almost believed him.

The walk down the hallway was strangely nostalgic. As though last night had really happened months ago. Or, maybe in another lifetime. The key slid into the lock easily, with a satisfying metallic click and I opened the door. All I really wanted was a shower to wash away all my mistakes and start fresh. Instead, I looked up to see a silhouette in my living room. I balled my hands into fists and slowly approached the light switch. Was this it? Did some crazy fan finally get in? Was I going to die? I flipped on the light and released a quick breath.

"Seguchi."

Tohma smiled ever so slightly and it sent chills down my spine.

"Shindou."

His gloved fingers curled around the arms of the chair he was sitting in, the leather creaking in response. To be honest, I was in no mood for whatever punishment he had planned out now. I tossed my keys on the coffee table and perched myself on the arm of my couch. For a long time, Tohma said nothing. He seemed to be marveling the wonders of my area rug.

"Your actions last night, I would have expected them five years ago. Hell, I would have expected them a year and a half ago."

"Sorry," I muttered.

I had been sorry just a few minutes ago. I was sorry for the whole affair. I was sorry for ever meeting Yuki Eiri. Wait. That's not true. But maybe if I tell myself it is, I'll believe it.

Tohma leaned forward in the chair and tilted his head quizzically. "Are you?"

I looked him in the eye. He was a shark. Eiri had told me the truth about that. Seguchi Tohma was the Great White of Japan's music industry. I would hesitate to call him a friend. I would hesitate to call him anything other than instrumental in my career. I shook my head slowly.

"No. Not really. It was fun."

Tohma's smile deepened; to my surprise it was genuine. "It looked fun. But Shuichi-"

"Right," I hissed, standing up, "I have an image to uphold. And the name of NG. And Bad Luck. And blah blah blah."

When Tohma said nothing, I looked up to see what sort of wrath I was facing. I was shocked to find his brow furrowed and a frown on his lips. Such a rare sight alarmed me. I immediately thought the worst. Why was he here? Had something happened to Eiri in the short time since I'd left his apartment?  
"Did someth-?"

"Why? Why did I let this happen?"

I stared at him. He breathed in deeply and evened his expression before looking at me again.

"I should have noticed."

Tohma stood up and turned his back to me, heading toward the window.

"Shuichi, I want you to think long and hard about what it is that you want in this life. I want you to imagine every possibility before coming to a decision."

I didn't know what to say, but I understood what he was asking of me. He'd done this once before, tried to separate Eiri and I. And I had gone to New York then. Almost run away from it all, just to get away from the pain of being without Eiri.

Tohma wanted me to consider how bad my relationship with Eiri really was. He wanted me to decide between him and Bad Luck. Was he saying that if I had Bad Luck, I couldn't have Eiri? Or vice versa? At this rate, I would have neither. When I didn't respond, Tohma turned around to face me, again surprising me with his kind expression.

"Think about it. Take your time. Don't concern yourself with this TV spot. Nakano and Fujisaki can handle it. It's not as though they haven't in the past. The Generations concert is in ten days. I want an answer by then."

Without another word, he let himself out of my apartment. I collapsed onto my couch and let the tears finally come. Did everyone think that we were a bad idea? I'm sure that they'd all be a lot happier if I was behaving myself. If I were more predictable. In the past I would have run to Eiri if I'd been faced with such a hard decision, but how could I? Not now, not when he was part of the hard decision.

Why couldn't I have it both ways? Why couldn't things be easier with Eiri? Why couldn't he also be predictable? I buried my hands in between the couch cushions until my hand hit something hard. I pulled the offending object out only to discover that it was the picture of Eiri and I that I had put on top of my television. I smiled involuntarily as I looked at it. We were so happy then. He was so radiant in the sunlight. So perfect. So unguarded. Could I do this? Could I lie to myself and tell myself that I would be better off without him? Would I be better off without him? Maybe I just needed some time. Maybe I needed to let this sink in. But we'd had two weeks, hadn't we? And what had that done? I closed my eyes. Things were just moving too fast and my heart hurt too much. I didn't want things to be the way they were, but I didn't want to be without him either.

I dragged myself off to the shower, hoping for some refreshment. I watched the hot beads of water roll off of the skin on my arm. I had done this alone before and I could do it again. Space. I needed space. I think…

…

K seemed surprised when I climbed into the Hummer, sunglasses on my eyes.

"Let's go."

I could sense his frown. "This is what you want?"

"This is what I've always wanted."

Predictably, someone had tipped off the public about the filming. I could hear the screaming a block away. K radioed the team of NG bodyguards to meet our car at the studio door. I closed my eyes and relaxed my face into the smile it had become accustomed to wearing.

"You're ready?"

I smiled at K, tilting my head cockily. "Always."

I opened the door, allowing the flashes of light to wash over me. I lifted my hand to wave at the fans, their screams an unintelligible blur, and I walked into the studio. The television studio staff seemed surprised to see me, no doubt Seguchi's doing, but I kept walking until I found the room Hiro and Suguru were in. They both looked up at me, surprised as well.

"Shu? I thought you weren't coming."

I sat down on the edge of the table. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Hiro frowned, but Suguru smiled.

"Good," Suguru said. "I'm tired of warding off questions that only you can answer."

"Excuse me," a voice said from the doorway.

We all turned to find a young, flustered man with a clipboard. "Fujisaki-san, we need you to test your keyboard."

"Alright."

And with that they were gone. Hiro stared at me out of the corner of his eye. I pushed my sunglasses up onto my head and sighed.

"You alright?"

There was a waver to Hiro's voice that betrayed his thoughts. I frowned at him slightly.

"I'm fine."

Hiro picked up the newspaper on the table and flipped it open. I flicked on the television. There was some fiasco. A fat, angry, little man was gesturing madly into the camera. For some reason, he looked familiar. In fact, the building he was standing in front of looked familiar, too. And the head of light brown hair that was making its way through the crowd looked familiar, too. Eiri. It was the photographer from last night. I turned the volume up, vaguely aware that Hiro had dropped the paper and was leaning forward, too. I watched in wonder as Yuki Eiri apologized on national television for last night. How did he do that? Where did he find the bravery to do that sort of thing? Why did he always draw attention to himself?

"Wow. I didn't expect that one."

Hiro's voice startled me and I switched off the television guiltily, as though he had caught me masturbating or something.

"Well, he is unpredictable."

Hiro shrugged. "But generally, Shu, he's predictably unapologetic."

I swallowed. This was true. It really was un-Yuki Eiri-like behavior. I refused to allow myself to think about his potential reasons for doing that. I looked at Hiro, who was flipping through the paper again, feigning disinterest in my presence.

"I'm sorry about last night," I said much quicker than I had intended.

Hiro lifted his eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because. I'm sure everyone expects better behavior out of me, more predictability."

Hiro closed the paper again and frowned at me. "Better behavior? What are you, a dog? To be honest, Shu, I found your predictability over the past year a little frightening."

"What?"

"Well, your passion makes you unpredictable and your music comes from your passion. I was beginning to wonder what would happen once you had Yuki out of your system."

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. "What do y-?"

"What do I mean? Shu, if you're not running off with Yuki Eiri in the middle of the night, then I don't know who you are."

I felt the tears I thought I'd already gotten out threatening to make an appearance again. I felt the words bubbling up into my mouth and I couldn't stop them.

"I was thinking I should break up with Eiri."

"Really? Is that really what you want?"

There was a part of me that wanted to lie, to tell Hiro that yes that was exactly what I wanted. Instead I felt my head shaking before I could stop it. Hiro walked around the table and dropped a hand on my head. I looked up at him, my tears unstoppable now, and he smiled warmly.

"There you are. I missed you, kid."

I wrapped my arms around Hiro and let myself cry, finally.

"Hey," he said when my sobbing had finally subsided, "Why don't you sit this one out? Suguru and I can handle it. Call Yuki and go home."

I felt my heart start at his words. "We don't share a home."

"Fine, then go somewhere. Just go there with him."

I nodded and watched Hiro disappear out the door, leaving me. Maybe everyone didn't think I was better off without Eiri. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I needed him like I needed air. I picked up the phone in the dressing room and dialed Eiri's number.

"Hello?"

The sharpness of his voice was both a welcome relief and a little alarming. It took me a moment to realize that this was what he sounded like to people he didn't know.

"Eiri," I breathed into the receiver.

"Shu? Where are you? I thought you had a TV spot."

I sniffled, unintentionally loudly.

"Where are you?" Eiri repeated the question with a force I recognized. If I wasn't careful, he would beat everyone in the studio to a pulp on my behalf. I drew in a shaky breath in an attempt to calm myself.

"I'm at TV Asahi's studios. I'm fine, Eiri. Really, I'm fine. But could you pick me up?"

I'd no idea the immense relief that saying those words would make me feel. I felt as though I was making a decision right there. That in letting Eiri pick me up, I was finally being honest with myself.

"I'll be there in a half an hour. Shuichi," he paused.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you're alright?"

I couldn't fight my smile. "I'm sure, Eiri," I replied, sounding more confident. "Just take me away from here. Please."

I paused for a moment, wondering if he would simply hang up the phone. But when I could still hear his soft breathing in my ear, I added:

"I need you."


End file.
